Francis  WvanPraag 


CLAYTON     HALOWELL 


Washington's  Headquarters  at  Morristown,  N.  J. 

— Frontispiece . 


Clayton 
H  a  I  o  w  e  1 1 

By    Francis    W.    van    Praag 

ILLUSTRATIONS     BT    fTINTHROP     EARLE 


R.    F.    FENNO     &     COMPANY 

9  and  1 1  East  Sixteenth  Street,  New  York 


COPYRIGHT,  1901 

BT 
R.  F.   FENNO   &   COMPANY 


Oavton  Halou/tll 


TO 

HELEN    AND    SALLY 

WITH 

THEIR  BROTHER'S  LOVE 


2036323 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Wherein   the  Guests  of  the   "  Goat "  hear 

ill   news g 

II.  Wherein  Moths  Flutter  and  a  Flame  Burns.  20 

III.  Wherein  an  Enemy  is  Made 37 

IV.  Wherein  Figures  a  Piece  of  Paper 44 

V.  Wherein    is    Demonstrated    the    Use   of   a 

Window    59 

VI.  Wherein  Halowell  Pays  a  Call  and  Madam 

de  Laurent  Destroys  a  Letter 71 

VII.  Wherein    Are    Recorded     Several    Occur- 
rences         86 

VIII.  Wherein   Madam   Practices   Diplomacy 109 

IX.  Wherein  Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas 124 

X.  Wherein  is  a  Demonstration  of  that  Which 

Fools  Call  Chance 141 

XI.  Wherein  Halowell  Meets  a  Masked  Man. .  162 
XII.  Wherein  Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle  and 

Halowell  Has  an  Unpleasant  Experience.  170 
7 


8  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIII.  Wherein    Are    Propounded  Several    Perti- 

nent   Questions 192 

XIV.  Wherein   Madam   Plans 212 

XV.  Wherein  Halowell  Takes  His  Revenge. ...   235 

XVI.  Wherein  a  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious.  254 

XVII.  Wherein  Joyce  Leads  a  Forlorn  Hope 275 

XVIII.  Wherein  the  End  is  Attained 289 


CLAYTON    HALOWELL 

CHAPTER  I 

WHEREIN  THE  GUESTS  AT  THE  "  GOAT  "  HEAR 
ILL  NEWS 

THE  dusk  of  an  April  evening  was  descend- 
ing upon  the  busy,  crowded  earth.  Whippany 
River  was  a  thread  of  gold  in  the  midst  of  am- 
ber-tipped slopes.  The  many  rows  of  huts 
which  scarred  the  hillsides  adjacent  to  the 
river  stood  forth  in  the  peculiar  yellow  promi- 
nence which  is  given  to  objects  in  the  path  of  a 
dying  sun.  Tent  and  marquee,  and  the  white 
mansion  that  overlooked  the  Newark  Pike  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  Morristown  Green,  gave 
forth  the  comfortable  glow  of  fire  and  lights, 
the  aroma  of  stewing  beef,  and  the  more  or  less 
equivocal  perfume  of  cabbage  and  beans.  On 
the  Pike  itself  were  complex  masses  of  human- 
ity surging,  some  toward  the  huts,  some  to- 
9 


io  Clayton  Halowell 

ward  the  village.  Endless  strings  of  white- 
topped  wagons  and  rusty  cannon  lurched 
through  the  gloaming;  orderlies  galloped  be- 
tween groups  of  ragged  infantrymen  and 
swore  impartially  at  cannoneer,  driver  and  pe- 
destrian ;  cavalrymen  in  short  jackets  and  huge 
helmets,  and  short  jackets  and  small  helmets; 
linen-frocked  riflemen  of  Morgan's  and  other 
regiments;  flat-capped,  furtive-eyed  rangers; 
tall,  heavy  troopers  of  His  Excellency's  Guard 
(whose  tricolor  plume  and  black  half-gaiters 
marked  for  especial  respect);  officers  wrapped 
to  the  chin,  sternly  impassive;  pursey,  red- 
faced  contractors — all  the  little  world  of  the 
Continental  army  hurried  home  to  supper  and 
a  pipe. 

"Faith!  one  would  think  supping  consti- 
tutes the  oyer  and  terminer  of  life,"  commented 
a  bronzed,  keen-eyed  Major,  in  the  blue-and- 
buff-and-white  of  the  New  York  line.  "  The  at- 
traction of  the  kettle  outweighs  the  fascination 
of  dice  at  five  in  the  afternoon." 

The  man's  companion,  a  broad,  suave  civil- 
ian, spread  out  his  hands  and  laughed.  "  What 


Guests  Hear  111  News  n 

would  you?  They  have  been  digging  at  a 
nonsensical  fort,  or  lounging  at  the  tavern  door 
since  forenoon.  It  is  natural  the  kettle  should 
have  an  attraction.  Damme !  "  He  broke  off 
and  peered  down  the  road  at  a  troop  of  horse, 
muddy  and  disheveled,  which  was  straggling 
into  view.  "  Damme !  But  here  are  some  who 
are  thinking  little  of  cookery,  I'll  swear." 

The  Major's  eye  swept  the  passing  stream  of 
humanity  and  rested  upon  a  column  of  men 
whose  attire  and  mien  bore,  in  no  uncertain 
characters,  the  indications  of  rough  work. 
Many  of  the  men  were  lolling  in  their  saddles, 
their  feet  either  dangling  from  the  stirrups  or 
thrown  across  the  pommel.  Dirty  rags  band- 
aged two  heads ;  and  a  sergeant  with  an  arm  in 
a  sling  cursed  loudly  whenever  a  rut  caused  his 
tired  mount  to  stumble. 

"  Sink  me  if  it  isn't  Allen's  troop !  "  ex- 
claimed the  Major,  and  reined  in,  his  brows 
knit,  until  the  first  man  (who  was  prodding  the 
roadbank  with  a  captured  Yager  sword  and 
damning  all  things  an  inch  high)  came  abreast 
him. 


12  Clayton  Halowell 

"How  did  the  raid  come  out,  my  man?" 
he  asked. 

"  As  ill  as  the  rankest  Tory  could  wish,"  re- 
turned the  fellow,  "  asking  your  pardon  for 
saying  so.  *  Beat  up  the  British  outposts ' 
were  our  orders.  If  running  into  a  regiment  of 
sauerkraut-eaters  be  doing  the  thing,  why,  we're 
victorious." 

"  The  biter  bitten  ?  "  suggested  the  Major's 
companion,  softly. 

"  Ay,  the  biter  bitten !  "  retorted  the  trooper. 
"  But  was  it  fair  and  square  biting,  I  say  ?  Not 
it,  or  I'm  a  Dutchman !  There's  that  going  on 
as  keeps  Clinton  better  posted  on  our  doings 
than  most  of  our  own  generals.  Else  how  did 
he  know  where  to  expect  us  yesterday,  and 
Freeman  last  month,  and  Sterling  in  January? 
Damned  if  I  wouldn't  like  to  lay  hands  on — " 

The  man's  wrath  choked  him.  Before  he 
could  recover,  the  cause  of  the  explosion  said 
smoothly,  addressing  himself  to  his  compan- 
ion: 

"Did  you  ever  notice,  Mr.  Halowell,  how 
readily  a  defeated  man  cries  '  treachery?  '  Tis 


Guests  Hear  111  News  13 

a  most  singular  peculiarity,  but  a  universal 
one." 

Halowell  frowned,  and  by  an  authoritative 
gesture  compelled  silence  in  the  dozen  troopers 
who  had  heard  the  words  and  crowded  for- 
ward, eager  to  resent  them. 

"  "Tis  a  most  singular  peculiarity,  Borden, 
that  you  should  add  to  our  bitterness  by  ill- 
timed  pleasantry.  You  are  not  a  soldier  and 
cannot  know  the  humiliation  of  defeat ;  yet  you 
can  surely  appreciate  good  taste  and  bad." 

Borden's  broad  face  flushed.  "  Since  when, 
sir,  did  I  constitute  you  my  censor — ?  "  he 
began,  and  finished  to  the  scowling  raiders  and 
the  air.  For,  there  having  been  no  break  in  the 
trot  with  which  the  troop  horses  were  seeking 
their  stables,  a  long  stone  building,  surrounded 
by  a  low  wall  and  a  press  of  horses,  had  grown 
out  of  the  deepening  dusk.  A  sign-board  dis- 
playing the  crude  painting  of  an  animal  which 
could  have  been  a  bull,  an  elk,  a  goat,  or  any 
other  creature  endowed  by  nature  with  horns, 
topped  a  gate,  beneath  the  arch  of  which  was 
visible  a  front  of  cheerfully-lighted  windows 


14  Clayton  Halowcll 

and  a  door  through  which  came  the  sound  of 
much  hilarity,  the  clicking  of  cards,  and  the 
companionable  clatter  of  ale-mugs.  Halowell 
dismounted,  returned  the  salutation  of  the 
hostler  who  took  his  horse,  and  sauntered  to  the 
wide-open  door  with  the  easy  assurance  which 
comes  with  familiarity  of  place  and  people.  Be- 
fore him,  beside  him,  on  every  hand,  was  a 
stream  of  arriving  and  departing  guests,  heavy- 
eyed  serving-men,  loose  women,  drunken  team- 
sters, ferret-jawed  professional  cheats, — all  the 
unnamable  riff-raff  in  fact,  which  eddies  in  and 
around  a  camp  tavern. 

The  Public  was  familiarly  smoky  as  Halo- 
well  descended  the  one  step  which  led  to  its 
sanded  floor.  At  the  far  end  of  the  room  was  a 
counter  above  which  was  a  second  painting  (  ?) 
more  explicit  than  that  which  the  gate  boasted. 
This  second  prodigy  allowed  one  to  gather  that 
the  horned  animal  before  remarked  was  the 
representation  of  a  goat.  Soldiers  and  bullies 
and  blacklegs  in  all  stages  of  sobriety  and  in- 
ebriety, and  of  all  ranks  and  ages,  worshipped 
at  this  Goat's  shrine,  lounging  before  the 


Guests  Hear  111  News  15 

scratched  tables,  dicing,  drinking,  and  ogling 
the  women  more  or  less  familiarly,  according 
to  the  quantity  of  liquor  imbibed.  Halo  well 
nodded  to  several  of  the  devotees,  rebuffed  two 
of  the  women,  and  dropped  into  a  chair  beside 
a  solitary  figure  at  a  table  near  the  door.  His 
deep  "  Evening,  Dal  ton !  "  caused  the  man  to 
turn  a  pale,  heavily-lined  face  to  the  light  and 
catch  his  nether  lip  in  a  nervous  movement. 
The  sight  of  the  tanned,  smiling  guest,  how- 
ever, banished  the  involuntary  agitation.  He 
settled  back  and  pushed  the  bowl  of  rum  toddy 
across  the  table. 

"Come  from  the  house?"  he  asked,  when 
Halowell  had  filled  the  glass  an  attendant 
placed  before  him. 

"  Yes,  and  left  Mistress  Jocelyn  about  to 
plunge  into  the  intricacies  of  pie-baking — By 
the  by,  I  met  your  contractor  friend  Borden  at 
the  head  of  the  lane." 

Dalton  set  his  mug  down  softly.  "  He  was 
looking  for  me?" 

"  Yes ;  on  his  way  to  see  if  you  were  home. 
I  left  him  bound  for  headquarters  and  hoping 


1 6  Clayton  Halowell 

you  were  at  your  usual  task  of  delving  amid 
sheaves  of  dispatches.  He  seemed  anxious  to 
see  you." 

Without  a  word  Dalton  rose,  threaded  his 
way  amid  the  tables  and  the  sprawled  feet  of 
the  loungers,  and  vanished  through  the 
door. 

"  Blessed  are  the  ties  of  friendship !  "  Halo- 
well  laughed.  "  Wonder  if  he  owes  the  fellow 
money?  It — well,  I've  trouble  enough  of  my 
own  without  conjuring  imaginary  ills  for  oth- 
ers. Here's  to  brown  eyes."  He  raised  his 
mug  solemnly  and  drank. 

Scarcely  had  the  toast  been  downed  when  a 
flurry  in  the  crowd  at  the  door  announced  a 
new  and  important  arrival.  The  Major  lay 
back  in  his  chair,  and  presently  a  tall,  thin  light- 
horse  trooper  appeared  and  was  greeted  with 
cries  of  "  What's  the  news,  Jack  ?  "  "  Give  us 
the  latest ! " 

Though  the  tumult  was  highly  flattering, 
"Jack"  stood  calmly  in  the  doorway  until 
Halowell's  "  Softly,  gentlemen !  Fink  has  a 
thirst  which  must  be  washed  away  to  fit  his 


Allen's  done  for.'1 — Page  17. 


Guests  Hear  111  News  17 

throat  for  use.  What  shall  it  be,  Fink?  "  sent 
him  grinning  to  the  Major's  table. 

"  Ale,  Major,  and  thanks." 

"  No  thanks ;  the  act  is  purely  selfish — Ale, 
Hobbs,  with  plenty  of  head  to  it — And  now, 
out  with  the  budget,  man." 

Fink  drained  his  mug  and  wiped  his  mouth 
deliberately.  "  The  news  to-day,  gentlemen, 
is  that  Allen's  done  for — and  a  plague  on  the 
business  for  a  mystery." 

Halo  well  was  the  only  man  in  the  assem- 
blage who  did  not  cry  out  surprise  and  incre- 
dulity at  this  information. 

"  Positive  fact,"  reiterated  the  courier. 
"  Got  it  from  Colonel  Hamilton  not  twenty 
minutes  back.  '  Allen  cut  to  pieces  by  a  regi- 
ment of  Dutchmen  near  Paulus  Hook.'  Gen- 
eral's mad  as  a  Tory  and  the  staff  swears 
there's  something  crooked  somewhere,  which 
may  or  may  not  be  true." 

As  a  flash  of  light  illuminates  objects  which 
in  a  steady  glow  would  pass  unnoticed,  so  the 
until-then  disregarded  words  of  the  cavalry 
sergeant  returned  to  Halowell.  When  Fink 


1 8  Clayton  Halowell 

continued,  warmed  to  garrulity  by  the  ale  of  a 
second  good  Samaritan,  "  We  know  there's 
those  as  don't  think  twice  in  selling  secrets,  but 
Allen  was  kept  dumb ;  only  the  staff  and  coun- 
cil knew  where  he'd  been  ordered,"  he  ceased 
to  listen  to  the  man  further.  There  was  an 
idea  in  his  mind  that  required  meditation. 

"  Hm !  "  He  stroked  his  jaw.  "  Now  that'll 
bear  thought.  Hobbs,  the  score.  And  tell 
Captain  Manderson  I'll  give  him  his  revenge 
to-morrow  instead  of  to-night." 

"  Not  going  so  soon,  sir !  "  cried  Hobbs, 
aghast. 

"  A  matter  of  importance,  Hobbs." 

"  But  Mr.  Cranford  has  matched  his  Ply- 
mouth against  Mr.  Bacon's  Yorkshire  and  the 
main's  to  be  in  the  shed  at  ten." 

Even  this  inducement  had  no  effect  upon 
Halowell's  decision.  And  though  more  than 
once  he  was  stopped  in  the  short  journey  to  the 
yard,  the  persuasion  and  raillery  of  which  he 
was  the  recipient  were  as  futile  in  altering  his 
determination  as  had  been  Hobbs'  argument. 

In  the  cool  silence  of  the  road  his  thoughts 


Guests  Hear  111  News  19 

had  full  play.  The  Ford  House,  the  Guards' 
huts,  and  the  outlying  cantonments  were  passed 
before  he  ceased  to  center  his  gaze  upon  an  in- 
visible point  in  space. 

"  It  would  bring  the  star,"  he  muttered. 
"  And  by  God !  its  worth  trying.  Treason,  eh  ? 
It'll  be  an  ill  wind  if  it  blows  me  no  good. 
You'll  carry  a  general  officer  yet,  Bucephalus, 
my  lad;  and  if  I  knew  just  where  to  begin  in 
a  certain  matter,  the  auspicious  day  would  not 
be  distant.  But,"  his  keen  eyes  contracted  and 
his  jaw  became  unpleasantly  determined,  "  but 
we'll  keep  our  eyes  open,  eh,  lad?  We'll  just 
keep  our  eyes  open.  " 


CHAPTER  II 

WHEREIN      MOTHS     FLUTTER     AND     A     FLAME 
BURNS 

"  BIEN  !    Madam  ees  beautiful — chic !  " 

Yvette  stood  off  to  admire  her  handiwork, 
and  Madam's  satisfied  glance  rested  upon  a 
face — a  delicate  blending  of  white  and  pink  and 
red,  a  straight  nose  and  pearly  teeth ;  and  upon 
a  form — a  wonderful  series  of  curves,  blue 
satin  and  French  lace. 

"  Straighten  the  feather,  Yvette." 

The  ornament  was  duly  rearranged  and 
Yvette  again  enraptured. 

"  Ah,  Madam,  eet  ees  good  once  more  to  see 
ze  fashion,"  she  asserted.  "  Ze  fright  of  gown 
I  see  on  ze  road.  Madam  Washington — " 

"  Yvette,  stop  chattering ;  and  hand  me  my 
fan.  What  is  the  time?" 

"  Half  past  free,  Madam." 

A  wrinkle  drew  the  ends  of  Madam's  arched 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns      21 

brows  together.  Reading  a  danger  signal, 
Yvette  turne<^iastily  away  and  busied  herself 
with  the  gown  her  mistress  had  discarded. 
Then  the  clatter  of  a  horse  sounded  from  be- 
low; and  when  Madam  ran  to  the  window  the 
maid  breathed  as  if  a  crisis  had  passed. 

But  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  crisis  had  come, 
for,  upon  reaching  the  window,  Madam's 
eagerness  changed  to  disappointment  and  she 
tugged  so  fiercely  at  a  ribbon  knot  on  her  cor- 
sage that  the  threads  thereof  broke. 

"  Is  that  your  sewing,  lache!  "  she  cried,  and 
dealt  the  maid  a  resounding  slap.  "  Must  I 
stand  forever  over  you  if  I  wish  my  work  more 
than  half  done?  " 

The  woman's  lack  of  resentment  was  evi- 
dence that  she  was  accustomed  to  being  thus 
made  the  safety-valve  of  her  mistress'  temper. 
And  while  the  blow  itself  occasioned  no  sur- 
prise, its  weight  drew  the  tears. 

"  Stop  sniveling !  "  ordered  Madam.  "  And 
hand  me  the  roses !  "  And  crushing  a  number 
of  the  early  buds  from  very  wantonness  of 
cruelty,  the  woman  swept  from  the  room,  very 


22  Clayton  Halowell 

beautiful  in  her  ruffled  gown  and  her  pas- 
sion. 

There  was  enough  of  anger  visible,  when 
Madam  had  descended  a  broad  stair  and  en- 
tered the  reception  parlor,  to  accentuate  her 
gorgeous  beauty  and  cause  two  beardless  and 
mutually  jealous  officers,  and  a  perspiring  old- 
ish man  in  the  throes  of  tight  boots  and  senile 
adoration,  to  jostle  for  the  honor  of  the  first 
greeting.  A  smile,  a  glance,  a  pressure  of 
white  fingers  made  each  visitor  glow;  the  in- 
undation of  a  veritable  stream  of  new  arrivals 
cleared  away  the  last  trace  of  the  hostess'  burst 
of  temper.  She  became  Hospitality  incarnate — 
a  beautiful,  breathing,  radiant  Hospitality  that 
was  marred  by  no  peep  of  Devil  or  Temper. 
Each  guest  was  the  recipient  of  a  smile,  a  kiss, 
or  a  flash  of  wit,  and  each  gravitated  to  his  or 
her  especial  set,  firm  in  the  conviction  that  he 
or  she  had  received  a  special  welcome. 

Tact  is  truly  a  feminine  necessity,  and  the 
possession  of  it  was  demonstrated  in  the  enter- 
tainment Madam  had  provided.  That  a  stu- 
dent of  human  nature  was  catering  to  interests 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns      23 

and  individuals  as  diverse  as  the  poles,  was  ob- 
vious. For  the  lover  of  nature,  the  terrace  had 
been  enclosed  with  glass  that  the  view  of 
the  snug  Whippany  valley  might  be  enjoyed  in 
defiance  of  the  weather's  inclemency.  For  the 
lover  of  maid,  nooks  had  been  contrived  and 
hidden  ingeniously  by  palms,  screens  and 
hangings.  To  those  whose  tastes  strayed  to 
Bacchus,  a  buffet  laden  with  the  choicest  vint- 
ages of  France  and  Spain  and  Holland  was 
provided.  Cards  were  to  be  found  in  a  per- 
fectly appointed  room  set  apart  for  the  purpose. 
In  fact,  no  one  was  forgotten  or  overlooked, 
and  as  a  consequence  all  Morristown  and  the 
camp  flocked  to  do  homage  to  Beauty  and  re- 
gale Self. 

The  card  room  and  terrace  were  on  the  road 
to  that  state  of  social  purgatory  wherein  one 
can  with  difficulty  join  a  friend  across  the  room 
or  raise  a  glass,  when  a  stir  announced  a  be- 
lated guest.  A  broad  man,  heavy  of  jaw  and 
sullen  of  brow,  limped  forward,  escorting  a 
beautiful  young  woman.  Madam  advanced  to 
meet  the  new  comers,  smilingly  acknowledging 


24  Clayton  Halowell 

the  man's  somewhat  unpolished  bow,  and 
warmly  returning  his  companion's  kiss. 

"  I  had  almost  lost  faith  in  humanity,"  she 
cried  gaily.  "  What  sweet  lace  on  the  panniers, 
Margaret.  Blue  becomes  you  so  well,  dear. 
Now  tell  me  instantly  why  you  are  so  late  at 
this,  my  fortnightly  Event." 

"  Saddle  horses,  my  dear  Olive,  are  not  the 
most  reliable  means  of  locomotion  when 
hitched  to  a  chariot.  I'm  rather  surprised  we 
succeeded  in  reaching  you  at  all." 

"  Why  risk  yourselves  behind  such  beasts  ?  " 

"  It  was  that  or  walk." 

"  Dear,  dear !  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Ar- 
nold," turning  to  the  man  with  a  flattering  in- 
terest that  made  him  flush,  despite  the  fact 
that  he  was  newly  married  to  the  beautiful  Miss 
Shippen  of  Philadelphia,  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  Congress  has  not  passed  your  claims?  " 

General  Arnold's  brows  and  mouth  con- 
tracted. 

"That's  not  the  worst  of  it.  If  they  are 
passed  at  all  I'll  owe  no  thanks  to  His  Excel- 
lency, nor  do  I  fear  to  say  it." 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns      25 

"  It  looks  like  a  deliberate  attack,"  said 
Olive,  sighing.  "  Jealousy  sours  the  best  of 
tempers,  I  suppose." 

''  'Tis  what  I  say  over  and  over,"  Mrs. 
Arnold  interposed.  "  Congress  may  reprimand 
and  General  Washington " 

"  There,  there,  Peggy !  I'm  the  only  one 
privileged  to  talk  treason,"  interrupted  Arnold. 
"  Besides,  we  may  be  wrong.  If  it  wasn't  for 
this  confounded  leg  of  mine  I'd — " 

"  Win  fresh  laurels  and  give  a  country  lib- 
erty for  its  black  ingratitude."  Olive's  eyes 
sparkled  and  her  cheeks  flushed.  "  Everyone 
knows  the  fact — the  very  teamsters  and  drum- 
mers know  it.  No  attacks  of  petty  spite  can 
wipe  away  the  fame  of  the  victor  of  Bemis 
Heights.  Congress,  the  army,  His  Excellency 
himself—" 

"  Hush,  Madam  de  Laurent,  hush,  for 
Heaven's  sake !  "  exclaimed  Arnold.  This  al- 
lusion to  his  wrongs  was  too  strong  for  him  to 
be  sure  of  his  strength.  "  My  sword  will  always 
be  at  my  country's  service,  I  trust,"  he  contin- 
ued stiffly,  "  even  though  I  be  maltreated  by  its 


16  Clayton  Halowell 

misrulers.  There  is  Doctor  Rush,  Peggy;  I'll 
speak  to  him  now  about  those  last  liniments. 
Ah,  Mr.  Henry,  good  day,  sir.  Are  the  talk- 
ing days  nearly  over  ?  We  are  getting  tired  of 
doing  nothing  but  starve  and  have  chills. 
Come,  dear."  And  the  general  and  his  wife 
moved  away. 

Like  all  assured  beauties  Olive  possessed  a 
court  constantly  and  assiduously  attentive  to 
her  slightest  wish,  and  jealously  anxious  for 
her  slightest  favor.  Arnold's  presence  had 
caused  its  partial  disintegration,  and  before  it 
could  reassemble  it  was  collectively  and  sever- 
ally rebuffed  by  the  appearance  of  a  slender 
man  clad  in  the  scarlet  and  blue  of  the  artillery. 

"Faith!  I  thought  Mr.  Benedict  would 
never  go,"  said  the  new  comer.  "  And  it  being 
scarcely  etiquette  for  a  Lieutenant-Colonel  to 
request  a  Major-General  to  move  on,  I  perforce 
ate  my  heart  in  silence." 

"  Fie !  Mr.  Hamilton !  That  there  should  be 
a  heart  to  eat.  I  had  flattered  myself  there 
was  none — that  that  much  abused  parody  was 
entirely  in  my  possession.  And  to  be  sensible 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns      27 

— How  are  His  Excellency  and  Madam  Wash- 
ington ?  " 

"  Madam  will  be  here  soon,  I  expect,  but  the 
General  was  deep  in  a  roll  of  fresh  dispatches 
when  I  left,  so  I  doubt  if  he  will  enjoy  the 
light—" 

"  Nay,  stop !  Am  I  not  sufficiently  vain  ? 
Why,  only  a  half  hour  since  I  was  staring  my- 
self out  of  countenance  in  my  mirror,  wonder- 
ing— but  there,  I'll  not  expose  the  workings 
of  the  feminine  soul.  I  hope  there  will  be  noth- 
ing to  worry  His  Excellency  in  the  dispatches. 
He  appeared  ill  on  Sunday,  I  thought." 

The  colonel's  countenance  was  cleared  of 
all  its  gaiety  when  he  answered,  "  I  fear  there 
will  be  worriment.  Things  are  going  badly  in 
the  south  and  we  are  scarcely  strong  enough  to 
spare  reinforcements.  The  General  takes  the 
blows  without  a  murmur.  But  they  hurt." 

"  Would  that  others  were  like  him,"  said 
Madam  softly,  to  which  sentiment  Hamilton 
affixed  a  fervent  "  Amen !  "  before  taking  pity 
on  the  evident  wretchedness  of  the  court  and 
strolling  away  to  the  terrace. 


28  Clayton  Halowell 

With  Hamilton's  departure  Olive  expe- 
rienced one  of  the  discomforts  of  royalty.  With 
small  heart  for  frivolity,  and  a  question,  "  Why 
doesn't  he  come?  "  burning  into  her  heart,  she 
was  obliged  to  mask  disquietude  beneath  laugh- 
ter, and  bury  a  something  which  strained  her 
very  soul  at  the  sound  of  each  late  hoof  and 
wheel,  beneath  repartee. 

"  I  have  accomplished  this !  "  she  whispered, 
half  fiercely,  and  surveyed  the  crowded  rooms. 
"Why  should  I  care?" 

If  social  success  were  the  panacea  of  re- 
pressed longing  Madam  would  indeed  have 
been  the  happiest  of  mortals.  For  every  space 
in  the  long,  brilliant  parlors  boasted  its  knot  of 
guests.  Baron  Steuben,  Inspector-General  of 
the  army,  was  discussing  with  M.  de  Gonvion, 
Chief  of  Engineers,  the  probability  of  Lincoln 
holding  Charleston  against  Clinton.  General 
Kosciusko  was  in  deep  dispute  with  General 
Muhlenberg  and  a  graceful,  elegantly  dressed 
gentleman  whom  he  called  "  Chevalier,"  and 
who  was  none  other  than  de  Luzerne,  the 
French  ambassador.  General  Arnold  was  ex- 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns      29 

plaining  the  variations  of  his  wound  to  Dr. 
Rush.  General  Wayne,  slender  and  bold, 
was  laughing  with  a  bevy  of  girls  in  a  win- 
dow-embrasure. St.  Clair,  Stirling,  and  Put- 
nam were  at  the  buffet,  sampling  all  the 
drinkables  from  Port  to  Hollands.  From  the 
card  room  came  the  rattle  of  the  loo  and  picquet 
players;  through  the  long  French  windows 
came  the  tinkle  of  girlish,  and  the  heavy  bass 
of  masculine,  laughter.  Fans  waved  and  eyes 
flashed  and  black  servants  in  brilliant  liveries 
threaded  the  moving  throng,  bearing  salvers 
of  wine  or  confectionery.  All  was  mirth  and 
flirtation  and  relaxation. 

What  if  many  of  the  guests  did  bear  marks 
on  dress  or  countenance  of  privation  and  suf- 
fering? What  if  many  a  frill  were  darned,  and 
many  a  boot  patched,  and  many  a  cheek  hol- 
low !  Notwithstanding  the  shabbiness  of  faded 
uniforms,  these  were  the  cream  of  the  young 
Republic  and  it  had  taken  only  five  months  to 
accomplish  their  subjection.  Madam  sighed 
and,  as  the  court  redoubled  their  attentions,  re- 
signed herself  to  the  inevitable.  Members  of 


30  Clayton  Halowell 

Congress  in  sober  browns  and  grays  reached 
over  blue  and  buff  and  gold  shoulders  to  offer 
her  ices;  generals  with  faces  as  battered  and 
tarnished  as  their  epaulettes,  imagined  them- 
selves young  again  and  made  her  pretty 
speeches;  youthful  militia  officers  in  gorgeous 
uniforms  and  radiant  smiles  were  eager  to  do 
her  errands,  and  congratulated  themselves  upon 
having  attained  a  fascinating  age  when  favored 
with  a  smile.  All  who  came  were  allowed  to 
add  their  servitude  to  that  of  the  general  mass, 
and  to  discuss  themselves  and  their  plans  to  an 
attentive,  sympathetic  listener.  As  a  natural 
result  the  listener  was  smothered  with  atten- 
tions and  regaled  with  gossip,  plans,  rumors 
and  politics. 

In  the  midst  of  a  discussion  on  the  advisabil- 
ity of  a  new  issue  of  gaper  currency  (in  which 
Governor  Livingston  and  a  Member  from 
North  Carolina  were  the  principals,  and 
Madam  de  Laurent,  the  judge  to  whom  both 
contestants  frequently  appealed)  the  latter  mo- 
mentarily lost  interest.  The  cause  of  the  phe- 
nomenon was  nothing  more  important  than  the 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns      31 

entrance  of  a  tall  Major  of  the  New  York  line. 
But  when  the  man  finally  laughed  his  way 
through  the  bevy  of  girls  which  surrounded 
him,  and  came  down  the  room,  a  strong-limbed, 
strong-jawed,  bronzed  son  of  Mars,  Madam's 
manner  betrayed  distinct  indifference  for  all  but 
the  late  guest. 

"  The  moth  is  come,"  Halowell  announced, 
accepting  the  invitation  contained  in  the  gath- 
ering of  his  hostess'  skirts.  The  court,  not 
one  of  whom  had  been  so  honored,  melted  in- 
continently in  wrath  and  vexation  of  spirit. 

"  To  find  the  flame  alive,"  Olive  replied, 
with  a  gesture  which  embraced  the  crowded 
rooms.  "  The  flame  burns  until  it  is  snuffed — 
or  sets  something  afire.  Have  you  been  back 
from  Philadelphia  long?" 

"  About  a  week." 

"  Really !  "  two  deep  blue  eyes  flashed  above 
an  arc  of  painted  gauze.  "  About  a  week  ?  I 
supposed  you  had  just  returned." 

"  I  have  so  much  to  do,  you  see — recruits 
coming  in;  and  drill — and — see  here,  Olive, 
why  can't  you  be  civil  to  a  fellow  ?  " 


32  Clayton  Halowell 

"  I  was  wholly  unaware  of  having  been  any- 
thing but  civil,"  Olive  replied,  and  smoothed  a 
lace  ruffle  reflectively.  "  It's  five  months,  isn't 
it,  since  Fate  and  my  balky  mare  threw  me  into 
your  path  ?  Who  would  have  thought  the  con- 
sequences of  an  accident  could  be  so  far-reach- 
ing? A  carbine  volley,  an  attempt  of  a  fright- 
ened groom  to  catch  the  bridle  of  a  frightened 
horse — and  I  foolishly  slide  through  the  ice 
into  the  Whippany — and  you  as  foolishly  fish 
me  out.  And  then  daily  rides  to  the  '  Two 
Doves ',  and  lunches  beneath  the  honeysuckle. 
You  see  I'm  in  a  reminiscent  mood  to- 
day." 

"  I'm  wondering  what  it  means." 
"  Are  you  ?  "  With  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders 
(very  white,  dimpled  shoulders),  Olive  looked 
into  her  companion's  face.  "  Tell  me,  Clayton, 
was  the  conquest  easy — as  easy  as  mine,  for  in- 
stance? Comparisons  are  odious,  I  admit,  but 
womanly  curiosity  to  learn  about  a  rival  "  (Hal- 
owell winced  at  the  word  and  Olive  laughed) 
"  must  be  gratified.  How  many  afternoons  of 
the  month  you  passed  in  Philadelphia  and  of 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns      33 

this  week  in  Morristown  have  you  spent  in  the 
company  of  the  new  charmer?  " 

For  an  instant  Clayton's  eyes  were  as  black 
as  his  companion's  were  smiling.  By  an  im- 
mense effort  he  mastered  his  temper. 

"  You  ask  so  many  questions,  Olive,  that  one 
lone  man  cannot  possibly  answer  them  all." 

"  Then  begin  with  the  last." 

"  I  believe  I  have  forgotten  even  the  last." 
There  was  that  in  Halowell's  voice  that  warned 
Olive  the  ground  was  dangerous.  But  she  ac- 
cepted the  challenge. 

"  *  How  often  had  you  seen  the  lady  Mistress 
Jocelyn  Dalton  during  the  past  weeks/  was  the 
question." 

"  Oh,  a  dozen  times,  perhaps." 

Crack  went  a  stick  in  the  fan. 

"  That's  a  lie,"  whispered  Olive.  To  the 
scores  of  jealous  eyes  fastened  upon  her  it 
seemed  that  she  was  relating  some  funny  inci- 
dent and  repressing  the  attendant  laugh. 
"  That's  a  lie,  I  say !  In  Philadelphia  you  called 
upon  her  every  afternoon,  while  here — a  word 
from  me  to  her  brother  would — " 


34  Clayton  Halowell 

Halowell  gravely  looked  into  his  companion's 
eyes.  "  But  you  are  much  too  sensible  to  say 
that  word,  Olive.  Why  should  we  quarrel? 
Our  winter  has  been  enjoyable;  you  were 
amused,  and  so  was  I.  It  is  spring  now;  and 
while  I  can't  quite  see  your  right  to  demand  an 
account  of  my  doings,  we  are  both  sensible 
enough  to  know  that  our  friendship  can't  go 
on  forever.  You  would  wake  up  some  day  with 
a  scandal  over  your  head,  and  I  with  a  black 
look  from  His  Excellency  to  face.  We  are 
both  imperiling  our  chances  of  advancement, 
you  see,  and  so  acting  foolishly." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  you  are — are  deserting 
me?"  The  question,  which  was  a  practical 
admission,  cost  Madam  an  effort  and  caused 
Halowell  to  glance  at  her  oddly. 

"  You  are  one  of  two  things,  Olive — jealous 
or  curious.  As  I  can't  believe  you  would  honor 
me  by  being  the  former,  I  am  forced  to  take 
the  latter  as  the  motive  of  your  questions.  And 
surely  curiosity — " 

"  Is,  has  been,  and  always  will  be,  woman's 
prerogative,"  interrupted  a  gay  voice  which 


Moths  Flutter  and  Flame  Burns       35 

caused  both  conversationalists  to  start,  and  one 
to  flush  with  every  indication  of  pleasure.  A 
girl  was  bending  over  the  back  of  the  divan, 
and  if  ever  Madam's  antithesis  existed  it  was 
this  interloper.  Madam  was  tall  and  queenly, 
the  girl  was  slender  and  petite;  Madam's  eyes 
were  royal  purple,  the  antithesis  were  velvet 
brown;  Madam's  nose  was  Grecian,  the  other's 
was  retrouse;  Madam's  mouth  was  that  of  a 
Venus  or  a  Chloe,  the  intruder's  was  that  of  a 
mischievous  Raphael  angel  or  Madonna.  Hal- 
owell,  making  the  mental  comparison,  strayed 
longer  to  the  less  beautiful  face.  Madam,  no- 
ticing the  fact,  rose  abruptly. 

The  girl  expressed  quick  contrition.  "  Don't 
say  I  disturbed  you.  I'm  looking  for  George 
and  I  couldn't  resist  interrupting.  I  never  can 
resist  doing  the  wrong  thing." 

Madam  laughed.  "  'Twas  not  the  wrong 
thing,  Mistress  Dalton.  For  here  is  one  who 
longs  to  help  you  hunt  for  George — and  not 
find  him." 

"  I  foresee  the  ending  of  our  friendship,  Mr. 
Halowell,"  the  girl  cried  gaily.  "  Madam  de 


36  Clayton  Halowell 

Laurent,  if  you  hear  reports  of  Mr.  Halowell's 
scandalous  attendance  upon  me,  be  sure  to 
know  that  I  am  discouraging  them  mightily. 
Yes,  George  may  be  in  the  card-room,  or  on  the 
terrace — " 

"  Or  in  the  garden,"  suggested  Clayton,  of- 
fering his  arm. 

"  Or  in  the  garden,"  assented  the  unblush- 
ing angel. 

And  as  the  twain  moved  toward  the  door 
Olive  sent  the  re-assembled  court  into  convul- 
sions at  her  observations  upon  General  Clin- 
ton's latest  broadside  from  the  south,  and  her 
comments  upon  the  gowns  she  had  noticed  at 
the  previous  Assembly. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEREIN  AN  ENEMY  IS  MADE 

A  QUARTER  of  a  mile  west  of  headquarters 
Clayton  extricated  himself  from  a  precarious 
position  between  a  broken  battery  wagon  and  a 
group  of  children  gaping  at  a  troop  at  drill  in 
the  pasture  near  the  Guard's  hut,  and  turned 
into  a  steep  lane  which  ambled  from  the  New- 
ark Pike  to  the  Whippany — and  only  reached 
the  river  after  many  aimless  twists  and  abrupt 
curves. 

In  the  bend  of  the  last  of  these  twists,  as 
peaceful  as  a  buffer  of  one  hundred  rods  of 
thick  timber  and  a  roll  of  steep  hill  could  make 
it,  nestled  a  tiny,  vine-covered  cottage.  A  patch 
of  lawn  sloped  from  the  rear  porch  to  a  line  of 
willows  on  the  river  bank ;  and  a  flagged  walk 
started  at  a  hitching-post  in  the  road  and  led 
between  two  syringa  bushes  to  three  low 
wooden  steps  and  a  green  door.  Halowell  had 
fastened  his  horse  to  the  hitching-post,  trav- 
37 


38  Clayton  Halowell 

ersed  the  flagged  walk,  and  was  beating  a  sub- 
dued rat-a-tat  upon  the  door  before  a  man 
could  conveniently  have  counted  ten. 

And  before  a  man  could  conveniently  have 
counted  ten  more  a  slender  young  lady  was 
holding  back  the  door.  Indeed,  there  was  a 
promptness  about  the  opening  of  the  door 
which,  to  a  suspicious  mind,  might  have  con- 
veyed the  idea  that  the  young  lady  had  been 
watching  for  her  visitor. 

"  I  almost  fear  to  ask  permission  to  enter/' 
said  the  Major.  "  There's  such  a  thing  as 
wearing  out  one's  welcome,  you  know." 

"  I  do  not  know.  If  you  have  come  for 
George,  prepare  for  a  disappointment.  He  has 
gone  to  Hanover — " 

"  Do  I  usually  come  arrayed  in  my  dress 
uniform  to  see  George  ?  "  interrupted  Clayton 
severely,  and  followed  his  hostess  into  a  room 
opening  off  the  hall.  In  size  the  apartment  was 
extremely  limited;  in  coziness  it  was  palatial. 
The  furniture  was  covered  with  flowered  cre- 
tonne ;  there  was  a  multitude  of  early  blossoms 
on  the  spinnet,  the  center  table,  and  the  mantel. 


'Shall  I  tell  all,  Oh,  Potent  Divinity?" — Page  39. 


An  Enemy  is  Made  39 

Two  windows  looked  out  upon  the  shady  lane. 
And  a  huge  bow-window  which  was  a  perfect 
garden  of  geraniums  and  purple  petunias, 
looked  toward  the  river.  Mistress  Dalton 
seated  herself  in  this  latter  bower  and  her  guest 
drew  forward  a  chair.  Far  down  the  valley 
were  the  untidy  huts  of  the  cantonments;  be- 
yond was  a  cavalry  vidette  crawling  up  Horse 
Hill.  Clayton  wondered  why  there  were  such 
things  as  armies  and  videttes  when  one  could 
be  utterly  happy  and  peaceful  without  them. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  the  news,"  commenced 
Mistress  Dalton,  producing  a  book  of  silks  and 
an  embroidery  frame  from  some  mysterious  re- 
cess in  the  window-box.  "  Where  have  you 
been  and  what  have  you  been  doing — since  yes- 
terday?" 

"  Shall  I  tell  all,  oh,  Potent  Divinity?  " 
!     "  All ;  nothing  must  be  omitted." 

"  Then — let  me  see — after  Madam  de  Laur- 
ent's I  went  to  the  Goat  and  won  three  guin- 
eas (shilling  a  throw)  which  I  promptly  lost  to 
Manderson  of  the  Tenth  New  Jersey  on  my 
bird.  This  morning  I  drilled  and  was  on  duty 


40  Clayton  Halowell 

at  headquarters.  After  mess,  home  I  went  to 
don  my  most  fascinating  attire  that  a  certain 
Mistress  Jocelyn  Dalton,  spinster,  might  be 
duly  impressed  with  my  numerous  charms." 

"  Mistress  Dalton  is  deeply  honored  at  being 
the  cause  of  so  flattering  a  thought.  But  how 
is  it  that  George  hasn't  time  to  go  to  the  Goat  ? 
And  why  should  he  be  so  busy  when  everyone 
else  has  time  to  waste?  " 

"  Well,  you  know,  fellows  on  the  staff  have 
to  work  harder  than  we  on  the  line  do." 

"  Then  it's  not  fair,"  asserted  Joyce,  and 
pulled  a  ravel  viciously,  as  if  it  were  the  foun- 
tain head  of  the  law  she  objected  to.  "  I  de- 
clare, when  I  was  with  Aunt  Mary  in  Phila- 
delphia I  saw  more  of  George  than  I  do  now. 
What  did  I  come  here  for  if  not  to  keep  house 
for  him?  And  when  he's  always  away,  where 
is  the  sense  of  keeping  house  at  all  ?  " 

"  Because  a  fellow  is  on  the  staff  and  can't 
call  his  time  his  own,  is  it  reasonable  he  should 
be  deprived  of  the  comforts  of  a  home?  I  might 
further  add,  in  all  humility,  that  one's  friends 
should  count  as  well  as  one's  brother." 


An  Enemy  is  Made  41 

Joyce  looked  up  and  laughed.  "  They  do — 
a  little.  But  when  a  girl  has  an  exceptional 
brother  she  must  hunt  far  for  a  friend  on  his 
plane." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  asserted  Clayton  dutifully, 
and  changed  the  subject  and  inquired  about 
Aunt  Mary  and  the  Philadelphia  household, 
admired  the  new  petal  of  the  embroidery,  and, 
when  the  shadows  drew  their  veil  across  the 
sun  and  blurred  the  work,  proposed  a  song. 
The  spinnet  was  consequently  opened;  and  to 
the  accompaniment  of  the  thin,  sweet  strains 
Joyce  sang  of  summer  skies  and  laughing 
waters.  Often  her  companion  smiled  at  the 
loud  amazement  his  occupation  would  have  ex- 
cited in  his  comrades  of  the  Goat.  They  would 
have  wondered,  with  many  oaths,  if  this  Clay- 
ton Halowell,  turning  music  pages  in  response 
to  a  vigorous  "  Now ! "  was  the  Clayton  Halo- 
well  whom  they  knew  and  drank  with.  As, 
however,  Halowell  wondered  on  the  same 
score,  it  is  doubtful  if  he  could  have  enlightened 
his  friends. 

Joyce  was  holding  a  high  note  and  clutching 


42  Clayton  Halowell 

for  a  particularly  complicated  chord  when  the 
knocker  sounded.  In  an  instant  notes  and  keys 
were  forgotten.  With  a  cry,  "  Perhaps  it's 
George !  "  she  flew  into  the  hall.  The  desertion 
caused  Halowell  to  remember  that  the  mess 
hour  was  near  and  that  a  soldier  has  duties 
other  than  basking  in  the  smiles  of  a  pretty 
maid.  .  With  a  lingering  look  at  the  flower- 
bright  little  room,  at  the  spinnet  and  it's  tum- 
bled heap  of  music,  and  the  embroidery  on  the 
window-seat,  he  walked  toward  the  door.  Be- 
fore he  could  reach  it  a  dialogue  in  the  hall 
petrified  him. 

"  George  is  not  home,  Mr.  Borden." 

"  Then  I'll  wait."  The  answering  voice  was 
thick  and  unsteady.  "  Then  I'll  wait,  pet." 

"Mr.  Borden!" 

"  No,  no,  dear ! — Harry.  Harry  I  am  to  m' 
friends,  and  Harry  I'll  be  to — " 

A  stifled  cry  raised  the  embargo  on  Halo- 
well's  muscles.  He  reached  the  door  in  time 
to  see  Joyce  writhing  in  Borden's  grasp ;  and  he 
reached  the  struggling  forms  in  time  to  whirl 
the  man  around  and  shake  him  until  his  broad, 


An  Enemy  is  Made  43 

heavy  face  was  purple.  Then  he  flung  the  con- 
tractor into  the  garden,  closed  the  door,  and 
turned  to  the  weeping  girl. 

"  Has  he  ever  come  before  in  that — that  con- 
dition ?  "  he  asked,  his  voice  strangely  hoarse. 

"  Yes,  once." 

"  And  your  brother — " 

"  But  he  never  did  this  before." 

"  And  he  never  will  again.  He  may  sell  oats 
a  cent  cheaper  than  the  others  of  his  kind,  but 
George  shall  know  of  his — peculiarity,  or  I'll 
be  struck  dumb !  " 

Joyce  dried  her  eyes.  "  You  must  not  tell 
George,  Mr.  Halowell,  it  would  annoy  him 
so.  And  Mr.  Borden  has  to  come  every  day 
about  the  fodder.  If  I  thought  I  were  inter- 
fering with  George's  business  I — I  would  never 
forgive  myself.  Indeed  I  would  not." 

"  But  Mistress  Dalton — " 

"  I'll  stay  out  of  his  way  when  he  comes 
hereafter.  And — won't  you  stay  to  choco- 
late?" 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHEREIN   FIGURES  A  PIECE  OF  PAPER 

"  YOU'RE  a  fool !  "  Halowell  nodded  with 
conviction  at  the  keen  brown  face  reflected  in 
the  triangle  of  looking-glass  which  adorned 
the  north  wall  of  his  hut.  "  You're  a  most 
damnably  stupid  fool,  Clayton,  my  man. 
You're  playing  with  fire,  neglecting  old  friends, 
and  allowing  to  slip  a  golden  opportunity  of 
advancement  in  your  chosen  profession.  And 
it's  all  for  the  pleasure  of  chasing  a  butterfly." 
With  which  announcement  the  Major  washed 
the  lather  from  his  face,  dispatched  his  orderly 
to  the  stable  with  strict  injunctions  to  groom 
Bucephalus  with  extra  care,  and  turned  to  the 
serious  business  of  dressing.  In  their  sequence, 
coat,  belt,  gauntlets  and  chapeau  were  scruti- 
nized in  a  vast  and  minute  hunt  for  possible 
dirt  or  rust;  and  when  finally  he  had  passed 
upon  the  articles  and  arrayed  himself  therewith, 


A  Piece  of  Paper  Figures  45 

and  swung  into  the  saddle,  he  was  pleasantly 
aware  that  he  was  as  sleekly-groomed  as  the 
horse — which  was  saying  much,  for  Major 
Halowell's  word  was  idolized  law  in  Major 
Halowell's  battalion. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  and  a 
beautiful  day.  The  sky  was  cloudless  and  the 
sun  painting  the  shadows  of  the  budding  trees 
in  rich  purple  tints  upon  the  sward.  Recent 
rains  had  brought  the  spring  green  into  the 
fields  and  upon  the  multitude  of  trees  which 
stretched  in  vast  waves  down  the  valley.  Farm 
and  tent  and  hut  clothed  the  slopes  and  mead- 
ows. Many  forms  peopled  the  roads,  and  Hal- 
owell's back  was  a  constant  curve  of  bows  from 
the  moment  he  turned  into  the  Newark  Pike 
until  he  reached  the  head  of  the  steep  lane 
which  led  to  Paradise. 

He  was  turning  at  this  point,  a  glow  of  an- 
ticipation tingling  through  his  heart,  and  the 
world  seeming  very  bright,  when  Madam  de 
Laurent  cantered  past,  a  vision  of  brown 
plumes  and  velvet,  a  court,  as  usual,  close  at  her 
side.  Major  Halo  well  made  a  humble  salute 


46  Clayton  Halowell 

— and  was  rewarded  by  a  slight  (a  very  slight) 
inclination  of  the  beautiful  head.  The  cut  was 
so  patent  and  so  public  that  it  pulled  him  up 
sharp.  Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders — and 
nullified  the  effect  of  the  careless  gesture  by 
spurring  down  the  lane  with  quite  unnecessary 
viciousness. 

His  vanity  was  still  smarting  when  he  ar- 
rived at  the  cottage.  While  he  rattled  the 
knocker  and  waited  for  the  call  to  be  answered, 
he  thought  ruefully  of  the  days  when  he  had 
been  the  envied  cavalier  to  ride  at  Olive's  side 
and  reap  her  smiles.  In  throwing  away  sub- 
stance for  shadow  he  had — but  here  Joyce 
opened  the  door;  and  what  Major  Halowell 
had  or  had  not  done  must  remain  forever  his 
own  secret. 

He  noticed,  with  truly  preternatural  keen- 
ness that  the  girl  was  unusually  radiant  and 
wore  an  unfamiliar  dress — one  cut  low  at  the 
neck  and  smothered  with  ribbons  and  ruffles  and 
draperies.  She  reminded  him  of  one  of  the  shep- 
herdesses which  decorated  Madam  de  Laurent's 
salon,  minus  the  simper  with  which  those  crea- 


A  Piece  of  Paper  Figures  47 

tures  were  bedecked,  and  he  almost  forgot  the 
substance  in  the  sight  of  the  shadow. 

"  Am  I  then,  an  ogre  ?  "  Joyce  laughed,  and 
Halowell  was  suddenly  conscious  that  he  was 
staring.  "  You  had  best  enter  or  my  death 
will  be  upon  your  head." 

"  Heaven  forefend !  " 

"George,  as  usual,  is  away;  Mr.  Borden 
carried  him  off  directly  after  dinner.  But  I've 
a—" 

The  words  were  lost  to  the  visitor,  for,  near 
the  flowered  bay  window,  in  his  chair,  sat  a 
man — a  cornet — a  mere  subaltern.  A  blue 
coat  and  buff  waistcoat  showed  this  interloper's 
trim,  boyish  figure  to  great  advantage.  He 
arose  as  the  new  guest  advanced,  and  in  the 
stream  of  mellow  afternoon  light  which  flooded 
through  the  window  stood  a  slender,  graceful, 
curly-headed  soldier.  Clayton  gave  one  look 
at  the  handsome  face  and  Joyce's  softly  bril- 
liant eyes,  and  forgot  Olive  and  his  wounded 
vanity.  With  the  girl's,  "  Mr.  Halowell,  this 
is  Mr.  Winslow,"  hammering  in  his  brain,  in  his 
ears,  in  his  heart,  he  rebuffed  the  youth's  at- 


48  Clayton  Halowell 

tempt  to  shake  his  hand  by  a  stiff  bow.  In  his 
heart  he  would  have  found  a  savage  pleasure  in 
trampling  this  stripling's  face  into  the  mud  of 
the  regimental  sink.  A  hatred,  quite  foreign  to 
the  careless  good-nature  which  was  his  usual 
state,  took  forcible  possession  of  his  soul,  and 
darkened  the  sunlight  and  clouded  the  rippling 
river  and  the  many-tinted  world  that  peeped  in 
through  the  round  window. 

"  Mr.  Winslow  and  I  used  to  play  together : 
and  it's  four — five  years  since  I  saw  him  last," 
Joyce  was  saying  when  Halowell's  faculties  be- 
came normal.  "  George  told  me  he  had  a  com- 
mission and  was  in  Morristown.  But  he's 
been  here  two  days  and  never  called." 

"  I — "  began  Winslow,  when  a  stern  ges- 
ture from  his  hostess  silenced  him. 

"  No  excuses :  facts  are  plain  and  easily  read. 
You've  been  here  two  zvhole  days.  That's 
enough  to  convict  anyone.  Is  it  not,  Mr.  Hal- 
owell ?  " 

If  Clayton  had  been  better  acquainted  with 
women  (the  creatures  who  followed  the  army 
and  those  found  in  the  public  inns  not  being 


A  Piece  of  Paper  Figures  49 

entitled  to  the  sacred  name),  he  must  have 
known  that  cause  for  jealousy  did  not  exist. 
A  woman  does  not  declaim  to  the  world,  nor  to 
the  man  she  loves,  the  supreme  happiness  of  her 
life.  But  he,  through  ignorance,  accepted 
smiles  and  pretty  pouts  as  evidence  conclusive 
of  the  presence  of  love.  Until  that  moment  he 
had  doubted  that  he  actually  loved  Jocelyn. 
The  appearance  of  this  rival  swept  the  doubts 
clear  of  his  heart.  He  had  played  with  fire 
and  was  like  to  be  burned.  He  said,  "  You 
must  be  glad  indeed  to  see  an  old  playfellow," 
and  bent  over  the  spinnet  to  hide  his  face. 

"  It's  like  a  sight  of  short  frocks  and  pig-tails 
and  dirty  hands  and  mud  pies  to  see  him,"  de- 
clared Joyce.  "  Remember  what  beautiful  pies 
I  used  to  make  on  the  flat  rock  in  the  brook, 
Dick,  and  how  you  pushed  me  in  once — 

"  And  your  father  caned  me  and  I  threat 
ened  to  get '  even  '  when  I  was  a  man  ?  " 

"  And  the  time  you  baptized  me  in  the  rah; 
barrel  and  caught  croup  and  nearly  died  ?  " 

"  And  you  rode  Gillie  and  were  caught  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  I  was  caught — and  scolded 


50  Clayton  Halowell 

and  bread-and-watered  and  sixth-chapter-St. 
Luked  for  a  week !  It  w as  scandalous,  though, 
you  know,  riding  a  Shetland  pony  in  broad 
light." 

And  so  it  went.  When  one  dropped  the  ball 
the  other  took  it  up  and  tossed  it  back  freighted 
with  the  recollection  of  some  escapade  more 
absurd  than  the  former.  And  all  the  while 
Halowell  sat  in  his  strange  chair  with  murder 
in  his  heart  and  a  smile  on  his  lips.  Joyce's 
voice  was  a  continuous  ripple  of  laughter — the 
gay,  sweet  sounds  he  had  grown  to  consider 
his  own.  At  length,  long  before  the  reunited 
playmates  had  exhausted  their  store  of  anec- 
dotes, he  found  he  could  trust  himself  no 
further.  No,  he  could  not  stay  for  chocolate; 
he  was  expected  at  the  Goat.  He  made  his 
adieux,  climbed  into  the  saddle,  and  without  a 
backward  look  at  the  peaceful,  sun-bathed  cot- 
tage, and  the  puzzled  little  face  gazing  after 
him  from  the  door,  galloped  away. 

Bucephalus,  maddened  by  an  unaccustomed 
spur,  dashed  down  the  lane.  The  throng  on 
the  highway  parted  hastily  to  give  the  strain- 


A  Piece  of  Paper  Figures  51 

ing  nag  and  the  white-faced  rider  the  right 
of  way.  Many  heads  turned  wonderingly, 
and  not  a  few  men  called  for  the  news — 
which  must  be  of  importance  to  send  a  man 
flying  at  breakneck  pace  over  April  roads.  Had 
the  French  fleet  been  sighted?  Was  the  army 
to  move  at  last?  Had  Charleston  been  re- 
lieved? Was  there — .  But  the  questions  fell 
upon  a  deaf  ear.  Sphir.x-like  and  rigid  Halo- 
well  swept  past  Headquarters,  into  the  village 
and  out  of  it  again,  and  into  the  comparative 
desertion  of  the  Elizabeth  road?  The  sound 
of  his  hoofs  drew  yelps  from  every  passing  dog, 
and  curses  from  the  pedestrians  who  were  not 
agile  enough  to  escape  the  muddy  showers  the 
flying  hoofs  scattered;  patrols,  respecting  the 
uniform,  pulled  up  and  saluted;  pickets  left 
their  fires  and  kettles  to  crowd  along  the  road 
and  cheer — at  what,  neither  they,  nor  anyone 
else  could  tell,  except  that  there  is  something  in- 
spiriting in  the  sight  of  a  mad  brute  and  a  per- 
fect seat;  and  women  called  shrilly  from  win- 
dows to  know  if  the  Hessians  were  coming,  and 
men  bawled  the  same  question  from  the  fields. 


52  Clayton  Halowell 

Past  them  all,  with  never  a  look,  sped  Halowell, 
into  the  open  country,  and  the  wind  and  the 
darkness — away  from  the  pretty,  slender  boy 
and  the  merry,  dimpling  maid !  To  Hell  itself, 
so  that  forgetfulness  could  be  gained. 

The  gasps  of  his  foundering  horse  finally 
warned  him  that  the  limit  of  brute  endurance 
had  been  reached.  He  pulled  up  with  a  savage 
jerk,  furious  with  the  desire  to  harm,  to  curse. 
How  dare  this  boy  come  between  him  and  his 
love !  How  dare  he ! 

And  then,  treading  on  the  heels  of  the  first 
violence  of  jealous  pain  came  that  desire  for 
comfort  and  companionship  which  leads  so 
often  and  so  easily  to  broken  hearts  and  the 
divorce  courts.  A  man's  wife  is  nagging  or 
tactless  or  slovenly,  and,  though  the  man  may 
love  the  woman,  the  instinct  that  craves  for 
sympathy  and  a  confidante  springs  into  exist- 
ence, too  strong  to  be  resisted.  To  Halowell 
the  emptiness  of  the  world  was  as  vastly  ap- 
parent as  it  has  been  to  every  disappointed 
lover.  The  thought  of  returning  to  his  soli- 
tary quarters  was  repugnant ;  the  Goat,  with  its 


A  Piece  of  Paper  Figures  53 

smoke  and  rattle  and  laughter  was  even  more 
jarring.  He  pitied  himself  and  desired  pity. 
Respectability  was  a  sham;  he  would  cast  it 
aside !  His  old  life  was  open  to  him ;  he  would 
beg  Olive  de  Laurent's  forgiveness  for  his 
transient  falling  away  and  be  gay  with  the  old 
gaiety. 

There  was  a  rustic  gate  in  Madam  de  Lau- 
rent's stable-wall  which,  not  so  many  weeks 
before,  had  been  even  more  familiar  to  Major 
Halowell  than  was  the  grassy  lane  which  had 
of  late  daily  led  him  to  the  quiet  cottage  on 
the  river  bank.  At  the  end  of  an  hour's  ride 
he  pushed  through  this  gate  and  tethered  his 
exhausted  horse  to  a  nearby  tree.  The  path 
through  the  kitchen  garden  led  straight  to  the 
south  end  of  the  rosery  and  to  a  door  almost 
hidden  in  an  angle  of  the  wall.  Halowell  pro- 
duced a  key,  shot  the  bolt,  and  stepped  into  a 
narrow  corridor.  Blackness  confronted  him, 
but  with  a  confidence  auguring  a  strange  famil- 
iarity of  the  place,  he  strode  forward.  A  vel- 
vet curtain  blocked  the  end  of  the  passage. 
Upon  his  brushing  the  hanging  aside,  Madam's 


54  Clayton  Halowell 

wainscoted,  berugged  hall  appeared.  A 
lighted  candelabra  on  the  table  near  the  door 
enabled  him  to  noiselessly  cross  to,  and  ascend, 
the  stairs. 

At  the  head  of  the  flight  a  carpeted  passage, 
cut  on  one  side  by  high  windows  and  on  the 
other  by  numerous  doors  of  carved  walnut, 
extended  into  the  heart  of  the  building.  Hal- 
owell crept  to  one  of  the  doors  and  crooked  his 
finger  to  knock. 

Before,  however,  flesh  and  wood  could  col- 
lide, a  stealthy  click,  as  of  a  boot-heel  on  a  bare 
floor,  changed  the  tenor  of  the  intruder's 
thoughts.  A  tiny  jingling  of  spurs  following 
the  harsher  sound  caused  him  to  smile  grimly. 
So  this  second  midnight  visitor  was  not  a  thief, 
but  a  rival !  As  if  by  a  magic  potion  his  heart 
was  cleansed  of  its  desire  for  consolation.  At 
the  same  time,  his  position  was  anything  but 
enviable,  and  there  being  no  way  out  of  the  cor- 
ridor other  than  that  by  which  he  had  entered 
it,  he  sprang  to  the  nearest  window  and  buried 
himself  in  the  folds  of  the  hanging.  That  he 
would  never  again  be  principal  in  a  like  ex- 


A  Piece  of  Paper  Figures  55 

patience  was  the  theme  of  a  very  heartfelt 
prayer. 

The  newcomer  must  have  possessed  an  ex- 
ceptionally keen  sense  of  hearing,  for  his  steps 
ceased  with  Halowell's  maneuver.  Presently 
he  restarted;  and  though  he  stopped  at  the 
creak  of  every  joist  the  man  himself  finally 
came  into  view.  He  was  muffled  in  a  cloak 
which  concealed  his  figure  as  effectually  as  a 
wide  traveling  hat,  pulled  over  his  forehead, 
masked  his  features.  A  naked  sword,  which 
flashed  to  guard  at  the  slightest  pretext,  pro- 
claimed the  man's  caution.  Once  (as  he  was 
passing  a  chair  near  Halowell's  hiding  place)  a 
piece  of  plaster  fell  in  the  walls  and  in  a  twink- 
ling he  was  stabbing  at  the  blackness  beneath 
the  seat.  An  instant  later  he  came  to  his 
senses;  and  with  a  shame-faced  curse  desisted 
and  crept  on  his  mysterious  way.  As  he 
brushed  past  Halowell  felt  a  whimsical  desire 
to  pull  off  that  mask-like  hat  and  learn  who  it 
was  who  had  supplanted  him.  The  feat  could 
have  been  accomplished  by  the  mere  stretching 
forth  of  an  arm;  and  all  that  saved  the  man 


56  Clayton  Halowell 

was  the  fact  that  his  sword  and  spurs  were  of 
regulation  military  pattern.  A  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things  held  Halowell's  hand.  The 
man  passed  on  to  Olive's  door.  Thus  do  we 
lightly  spurn  opportunities  which  Providence, 
in  divine  forethought,  places  in  our  direct 
path. 

It  was  only  a  long  step  from  Halowell's 
hiding-place  to  the  door  before  which  the 
stranger  stood.  When  the  man's  knock  was 
answered,  the  fact  that  he  was  not  Madam's 
only  guest  came  as  rather  a  shock  to  the  un- 
willing, though  not  uninterested,  watcher.  He 
could  see  into  the  room.  And  what  he  saw  was 
a  long  table  drawn  into  one  corner  of  a  cosy 
boudoir,  and  a  heavy  man  sitting  before  the 
table  reading  from  a  roll  of  tissue  paper.  This 
second  man  nodded  to  the  newcomer  without 
looking  up,  like  a  person  absorbed  in  his  work. 
Then  the  heavy  walnut  swung  noiselessly,  a 
bolt  scraped,  and  Halowell  disengaged  himself 
from  his  curtain  and  wondered  why  Olive 
should  entertain  Mr.  Henry  Borden  and  the 
stranger  at  such  an  hour.  Nature  and  his  mil- 


The  lind  was  a  lawful  prize,  and  Halowell  carried 
it  to  the  window.— Page  57. 


A  Piece  of  Paper  Figures  57 

itary  training  had  made  him  both  inquisitive 
and  suspicious.  He  was  half  resolved  to  stay 
and  see  the  adventure  through.  A  faint  no- 
tion of  honor,  however,  and  a  stronger  realiza- 
tion of  the  discomforts  of  early  drill  following 
a  sleepless  night  turned  his  face  down  the  hall 
toward  the  stairs. 

As  he  passed  the  chair  which  had  been  the 
cause  of  the  stranger's  display  of  swordsman- 
ship, a  spot  of  white  glimmering  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  cushions  arrested  his  attention. 
Mechanically,  he  stooped  and  picked  up  a  tiny 
square  of  folded  tissue  paper.  The  find  was 
a  lawful  prize,  and  Halowell  carried  it  to 
the  window.  In  the  upper  corner  was  the 
rough  drawing  of  a  compass ;  in  the  lower  was 
a  column  of  figures ;  in  the  space  between  these 
figures  was  a  series  of  lines  and  dots  and  crosses 
which  had  the  appearance  of  random  memo- 
randa. Something,  however,  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  these  latter  hieroglyphics  struck  the 
Major  as  being  familiar.  He  looked  closer, 
made  a  mental  comparison,  and  then  ripped 
out  an  oath  more  expressive  than  respectable. 


58  Clayton  Halowell 

For  in  a  flash  he  realized  that  he  was  in  pos- 
session of  a  hastily  drawn  but  marvelously  de- 
tailed map  of  the  American  lines  from  the 
Hudson  to  Princeton. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEREIN   IS  DEMONSTRATED  THE  USE  OF 
A   WINDOW 

AFTER  his  first  surprise  Halowell  stood  in  a 
brown  study,  twirling  his  prize  between  his 
fingers.  The  mere  fact  of  possessing  a  map 
of  the  lines  was  not  necessarily  proof  of  wicked 
intent;  yet  it  was  sufficiently  unusual  to  cause 
thought  and  a  train  of  ideas  bearing  on  the 
almost  unbroken  record  of  disasters  which  had 
culminated  in  the  destruction  of  Allen's  com- 
mand and  the  treachery  rumors.  As  has  been 
said,  Halowell  was  both  suspicious  and  inquisi- 
tive, but  he  was  finally  forced  to  reject  the 
vague  connection  between  the  before-mentioned 
disasters  and  the  possession  of  the  paper. 

"  Absurd !  "  he  muttered.  "  Impossible !  " 
and  stared  at  the  map  as  if  in  hope  of  deriving 
information  from  its  bewildering  array  of  char- 
acters. "  I'd  be  barking  up  the  wrong  tree  if 
59 


6o  Clayton  Halowell 

I  got  that  notion  in  my  head.  But — "  he 
glanced  toward  the  door  through  which  the 
stranger  had  passed,  and  then  at  the  map,  and 
again  at  the  door —  "  I'll  have  a  look  just  for 
regularity." 

The  "  look,"  however,  produced  no  result 
other  than  the  unsatisfactory  discovery  that 
something  (presumably  a  hat)  had  been  hung 
over  the  keyhole.  And  the  walnut  paneling 
being  sufficiently  thick  to  cut  the  conversation 
on  the  further  side  into  disconnected  fragments, 
the  peeper  should,  by  all  the  laws  of  humanity, 
have  been  properly  discouraged  from  further 
investigation.  Unfortunately,  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  Nature's  gifts,  Clayton  Halowell  had 
been  bestowed  with  a  vast  amount  of  determi- 
nation— perhaps  to  the  omission  of  certain  of 
the  other  gifts.  The  determination  now 
stretched  him  flat  on  the  floor,  and  the  omis- 
sion of  the  certain  other  gifts  set  his  ears  hard 
to  the  crack  above  the  threshold.  When  he 
arose  from  the  undignified  position  his  coun- 
tenance betrayed  the  most  intense  amazement 
and  rage. 


Use  of  a  Window  Demonstrated      61 

"  Who'd  have  suspected ! "  he  muttered. 
"  I'll  find  out  who  the  third  one  is.  With  that 
little  item  of  information — "  His  thin  nostrils 
dilated  and  his  eyes  blazed  with  a  rather  cruel 
triumph.  "  With  that  little  item  of  informa- 
tion it  will  be  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  if  my 
star  does  not  bud." 

To  descend  the  corridor  and  the  stairs,  and 
regain  the  hidden  door  in  the  rosery  wall  was 
the  work  of  very  few  seconds  to  Halowell.  But 
here  he  paused.  There  might  be  sentinels 
where  he  was  going ;  and  his  pistols  were  in  the 
holsters  of  his  saddle,  the  long  length  of  the 
rosery  and  the  kitchen  garden  from  his  hands. 
Should  he — could  he — spare  the  time  and  get 
the  weapons.  He  calculated  rapidly,  decided 
in  the  negative,  and  consigning  the  fire-arms 
to  the  care  of  His  Satanic  Majesty,  and  any  pos- 
sible watcher  to  the  wrath  of  the  same  gen- 
tleman, stepped  into  the  open  air. 

The  dark,  rustling  trees  which  encroached 
upon  the  very  eaves  of  the  house  offered  fine 
cover  for  a  sentinel  and  Halowell  unsheathed 
his  sword  by  way  of  preparing  for  the  worst. 


62  Clayton  Halowell 

The  thought  of  turning  back,  however,  never 
so  much  as  entered  his  head.  In  the  first  place, 
the  affair  was  an  adventure;  in  the  second,  it 
was  rich  in  the  prospect  of  reward.  And  what 
twain  could  be  more  of  a  spur  to  a  man  ? 

Halowell  had  never  before  realized  how 
large  Madam  de  Laurent's  house  was,  nor  how 
numerous  were  the  box  hedges  (calf  high  and 
easily  tumbled  over)  which  ranged  themselves 
in  numberless  geometric  pitfalls  along  the 
walls.  No  sooner  would  he  escape  one  of  these 
hurdles  when  another  would  make  itself  un- 
pleasantly apparent.  Yet,  as  in  the  nature  of 
things,  even  box  hedges  have  an  end.  And 
the  sight  of  a  parallelogram  of  light  in  the  win- 
dow of  what  he  knew  to  be  Olive's  boudoir, 
partially  repaid  the  bruises  on  his  shins  and  the 
ruin  of  his  uniform.  And  what  ills  the  light 
did  not  salve,  the  magnificent  Wisteria  garland- 
ing the  wall  in  which  the  light  shone,  did. 
The  vine  was  not  invitingly  secure  as  a  specta- 
cle but  Halowell  went  up  its  main  stem  hand 
over  hand  in  most  approved  marine  style. 

Below  the  lighted  window  he  slackened  his 


Use  of  a  Window  Demonstrated      63 

pace  to  a  cautious  wriggle  and  brought  his 
eyes  level  with  the  sill.  To  all  intents  and 
purposes  the  room  was  deserted,  for  the  table 
was  drawn  into  a  corner  out  of  range  of  the 
window. 

Having  satisfied  himself  that  to  hang  on  slip- 
pery stone  many  feet  above  the  ground  was, 
under  the  circumstances,  a  useless  expenditure 
of  muscular  energy,  Halowell  dropped  back 
to  the  assistance  of  the  creeper  and  a  friendly 
gargoyle,  and  debated  whether  to  return  to  his 
old  position  in  the  hall  or  remain  where  he 
was.  While  in  the  throes  of  this  debate  a 
practical  demonstration  of  acoustics  assured 
him  that  it  is  infinitely  less  difficult  to  hear 
through  the  many  crevices  of  a  window  frame 
than  the  one  crack  of  a  door.  The  immediate 
cause  of  the  knowledge  was  the  sputter  of  wax 
as  if  a  letter  were  being  sealed.  The  sound 
was  as  distinct  as  if  the  operation  were  taking 
place  in  the  airiness  of  his  own  uncomfortable 
perch.  And,  as  if  a  further  test  were  necessary 
to  assure  him  of  the  value  of  his  discovery,  a 
voice  (Borden's,  he  knew),  said  briskly. 


64  Clayton  Halowell 

"  There !  that's  done—  Now  Madam !  " 
In  response  to  the  invitation  contained  in  the 
latter  exclamation  Olive  began  to  speak.  Long 
before  she  was  finished  the  watcher's  few 
doubts  had  given  place  to  certainty,  and  his 
many  misgivings  to  fury.  He  could  kill  a 
man  cheerfully  blade  to  blade,  but  deliberate 
murder  was  no  part  of  him.  And  this  which 
he  was  overhearing  was  as  much  deliberate 
murder  as  the  blow  itself. 

Though,  during  those  minutes,  Halowell  ran 
the  whole  gamut  of  passion,  he  never  forgot 
his  character  of  eavesdropper.  On  the  con- 
trary not  one  syllable  escaped  him  of  Olive's 
enumeration  of  the  number  and  position  of  the 
troops  in  and  about  Morristown ;  the  continued 
lack  of  ordinance  stores  and  commissary  sup- 
plies ;  the  disaffection  of  the  Pennsylvania  line ; 
the  absurdly  inadequate  guard  of  the  newly 
arrived  artillery  at  Hanover;  the  date  the 
French  fleet  was  due  to  arrive ;  or  the  fact  that 
Lafayette  was  supposed  to  have  in  his  posses- 
sion a  treaty  from  Louis.  Every  scrap  of  gos- 
sip or  information  her  guests  had  let  fall  or  she 


Use  of  a  Window  Demonstrated      65 

had  gleaned  by  question  and  observation  Olive 
retold.  When  she  ceased  speaking  Halowell 
groaned  at  the  thought  of  how  he  himself 
must  have  contributed  to  this  record  many 
times. 

"  And  that's  done,"  repeated  Borden.  "  A 
good  night's  work,  to  be  sure." 

The  last  remark  passed  unnoticed  and  there 
was  such  a  long  silence  that  Halowell  presently 
began  to  fear  the  meeting  had  adjourned.  In 
a  cold  chill  at  the  thought  of  his  mission  in- 
complete he  drew  himself  to  the  sill  again  and 
peeped  into  the  room.  The  sight  of  the  end  of 
a  skirt  and  a  spurred  boot  reassured  him.  He 
slid  back  to  his  gargoyle,  content  to  bide  his 
time. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Borden,  leave  off  trim- 
ming that  quill !  "  exclaimed  a  tremulous  voice, 
just  as  the  Major  had  resettled  himself,  and 
which  he  placed  to  the  credit  of  the  timid  new 
comer.  "  Get  this  business  over !  " 

"  At  once,  at  once,"  said  Borden,  the  rustle 
of  paper  punctuating  the  suavity  of  his  answer. 
"  Haven't  quite  gotten  over  your  nervousness, 


66  Clayton  Halowell 

have  you  ?  But  Lord  knows  we're  safe  enough 
here.  Eh,  Madam? — Now!  Have  any  plans 
been  made  to  reinforce  Lincoln  ?  " 

"  De  Kalb  may  go  with  the  Maryland  line.'* 

Scratch,  scratch  sounded  the  quill. 

"  Is  Heath's  brigade  strong  enough  to  with- 
stand an  attack  supported  by  the  sloops  in  the 
river  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Scratch  went  the  quill  again. 

And  then,  as  rapidly  as  the  questions  could 
be  asked,  answered  and  transcribed  to  the 
paper  came: — "What  is  Putnam's  strength? 
Have  any  orders  been  sent  to  the  cavalry  in 
Connecticut  to  break  camp?  Have  Stirling's 
troopers  been  supplied  with  mounts  to  replace 
those  lost  during  the  winter?  Have  the  picket 
guards  at  Elizabethtown  been  moved,  or  is 
the  report  merely  a  ruse?  What  are  the  pros- 
pects for  the  success  of  a  raid  into  South  Jer- 
sey? What  is  the  object  of  the  movement  of 
troops  toward  the  Highlands — is  it  to  attack 
New  York  ?  "  And  the  unhesitating  answers 
to  each  and  every  question  were  eloquent  of  the 


Use  of  a  Window  Demonstrated      67 

answerer's  knowledge  of  the  inner  workings 
of  the  army  machinery. 

Nor  were  politics  forgotten.  When  the  mil- 
itary situation  had  been  thoroughly  threshed, 
a  concise  statement  was  prepared  of  the  job- 
bery, peculation  and  jealousies  which  rent  camp 
and  Congress;  of  the  insubordination  of  many 
of  the  leading  generals;  of  the  senseless,  irri- 
tating policy  of  the  Legislature  in  respect  to 
every  order  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Plans 
which  Halowell  knew  must  have  originated  at 
headquarters  were  dissected,  and  opinions  on 
the  discouragement  of  the  men  at  their  con- 
tinued inaction  and  lack  of  pay,  expressed. 

With  the  final  reading  of  the  report  the  lis- 
tener blanched.  It  was  so  clear,  so  pitilessly 
accurate  a  record  of  poverty,  discord  and  weak- 
ness that  Clinton  could  not  but  use  it  to  deadly 
advantage.  And  its  usefulness  to  the  British 
commander  was  not  the  least  of  its  vicious 
qualities.  Mr.  Conway's  cabal  was  still  hot  in 
the  minds  of  the  public;  another  series  of  dis- 
asters would,  in  all  probability,  point  the 
charges  contained  in  that  document  and  prove 


68  Clayton  Halowell 

the  undoing  of  the  Man  whom  Halowell  wor- 
shipped even  above  Mistress  Dalton  and  his 
ambition. 

With  the  conviction  that  these  plotters  must 
be  destroyed  before  their  machinations  had  un- 
dermined his  idol's  well-deserved  prestige, 
there  arose  to  Halowell's  mind  a  vision  of  the 
sweet-eyed,  dignified,  courteous  gentleman  who 
had  shaken  his  hand  as  an  equal  before  the 
whole  army  (his  hand;  that  of  a  mere  trooper, 
with  not  the  best  of  records  for  subordination) 
and  presented  the  commission  and  spoken  the 
kindly  words  that  had  roused  him  from  him- 
self. He  felt  a  sort  of  wonder  that  anyone, 
knowing  the  General,  could  deliberately  seek  his 
ruin.  Of  the  ruin  of  the  army  as  the  chief  stay 
of  the  Republic  he  thought  little.  To  him  the 
army  was  simply  a  vehicle  freighted  with  ex- 
citement and  the  opportunities  a  peaceful  life 
did  not  contain.  For  the  joys  of  commerce 
and  accumulation  were  not  for  Halowell.  The 
wild  race  through  ploughed  fields  or  along 
muddy  highways,  hurrahing  and  waving  a 
stained  sword;  the  crash  of  the  charge;  the 


Use  of  a  Window  Demonstrated      69 

fierce  exhilaration  of  the  game  wherein  a  slip 
means  death;  the  return  down  a  cheering  line 
with  a  guidon  or  a  color  to  swing —  that  was 
the  essence  of  life  as  he  viewed  it.  To  have 
this  snatched  away  just  as  its  sweetness  was 
becoming  indispensable,  was  a  catastrophe  the 
mere  thought  of  which  bred  fury. 

"  There's  nothing  more  to-night."  Halowell 
regained  his  mental  equilibrium  and  recognized 
the  fact  that  perturbation  occupies  the  mind  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  other  senses.  "  You  won't 
forget  to  copy  the  Connecticut  dispatches?  " 

Borden's  reminder  was  evidently  addressed 
to  the  stranger,  for  the  tremulous  voice  de- 
manded sullenly :  "  Have  I  ever  forgotten 
them?"  and  without  awaiting  an  answer  con- 
tinued :  "  Are  you  ready  to  go  ?  "  in  a  way  that 
was  eloquent  of  a  desire  to  be  gone. 

Taking  his  cue  from  the  words,  Halowell 
climbed  again  up  to  the  sill.  Borden  was  walk- 
ing to  the  door  and  removing  his  hat  from  the 
knob.  The  mysterious  muffled  stranger  was 
bidding  Madam  good-night.  It  was  clearly 
time  to  descend. 


yo  Clayton  Halowell 

And  here,  for  what  can  honestly  be  classified 
as  the  first  time  in  his  career,  Halowell  bungled. 
His  limbs  were  stiff  with  cramp  and  cold ;  and 
vegetation  and  leather  care  nothing  for  the  des- 
tinies of  states  nor  the  comfort  of  individuals. 
Because  of  this  laxity,  and  also  because  of  a 
feverish  fear  of  missing  his  quarry,  Halowell, 
instead  of  reaching  terra-firma  decently  on  his 
feet,  found  himself  on  his  back  amid  dripping 
dahlias  and  petunias  and  holly-hocks,  with  the 
wind  all  knocked  from  his  body.  For  a  second 
he  could  only  lie  still  and  gasp.  Then  the 
thought  of  his  mission  pushed  through  the  haze 
of  his  semi-insensibility.  Bruised  and  shaken 
though  he  was,  he  clambered  to  his  feet.  The 
house  was  dancing  an  ungainly  hornpipe  and 
the  trees  were  all  blurred  into  one  whirling 
blackness. 

He  had  no  recollection  of  attempting  to  do 
more  than  stare  at  these  freakings  of  nature 
when  a  rustic  bench  grew  out  of  the  mist  and 
waverecjinto  his  path.  Then  the  thing  leaped  up 
at  him,  hit  him  so  as  to  produce  the  roaring  of 
a  hurricane  in  his  ears ;  and  blackness,  absolute 
and  complete,  descended  in  a  thunder-clap. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEREIN    HALOWELL  PAYS   A   CALL    AND     MA- 
DAM DE  LAURENT  DESTROYS  A  LETTER 

THE  pallid  light  of  a  rainy  April  dawn  was 
streaking  the  hill-tops  and  the  Heavens  when 
Halowell's  senses  shook  free  of  their  unnatural 
lethargy.  It  was  drizzling  and  his  head 
throbbed  as  madly  as  after  a  long  night  at  the 
"  Goat."  Minutes  passed  before  he  could  do 
more  than  idly  watch  the  water  roll  off  the 
edges  of  the  box  beside  him  and  wonder  where 
he  was.  When,  however,  the  events  of  the  night 
returned,  the  consciousness  of  failure  engulfed 
all  bodily  pain. 

As  he  limped  through  the  mist-wrapped  gar- 
dens and  climbed  into  his  dripping  saddle,  he 
sought  to  compose  his  thoughts  and  arrange  a 
plan  of  battle.  His  foes  were  crafty  and  un- 
scrupulous. To  denounce  Borden  and  Madam 
de  Laurent  on  the  simple  evidence  of  his  word 
7* 


72  Clayton  Halowell 

would  not  only  be  stupid  policy  but  would  al- 
low the  most  important  plotter  (he  who  had 
supplied  the  greatest  amount  of  news)  time 
either  to  escape  or  cover  his  tracks.  Immature 
thoughts  of  seeking  Olive  at  once  and  demand- 
ing the  name  of  the  conspirator,  of  threatening 
Borden  with  instant  denunciation  if  he  did  not 
disclose  the  traitor's  identity,  crowded  hotly 
into  his  brain,  and  were  only  banished  when 
cooler  second  thoughts  showed  them  in  their 
true  absurdity.  Any  attempt  to  force  the  con- 
spirators' hands  would  result  in  closing  the 
only  direct  channel  of  information.  Figuring 
the  problem  out  by  cool  calculation,  Halowell 
concluded  that  passive  activity  must  be  the  key- 
note of  his  actions.  Eyes  and  ears  must  be  kept 
alert ;  Borden  and  Olive  watched ;  and  the  To- 
ries in  the  neighborhood  spied  upon  closely. 
With  a  muttered  curse  on  the  mischance  which 
had  picked  upon  him  to  unravel  this  tangled 
skein  of  treachery,  he  bent  to  the  storm,  spurred 
his  jaded,  muddy  mount,  and  trotted  heavily 
toward  camp. 

Early  as  it  was,  the  world  that  lay  in  the  hill- 


A  Call  Paid  —  A  Letter  Destroyed    73 

encircled  valley  was  stirring.  A  shivering, 
yawning  relief  tramped  down  the  sloppy  road, 
too  sleepy  to  spare  a  glance  at  the  dishevelled 
horse  and  rider  it  passed.  An  orderly,  un- 
shaven and  red-eyed,  galloped  out  of  the  mist 
and  rain,  and  disappeared  into  it  again.  A 
squad  of  dragoons,  convoying  a  forage  wagon 
and  several  lean  cows,  clattered  from  a  lane. 
Bugles  wailed  in  the  cantonments,  and  long 
lines  of  men  and  horses  crept  to  the  river.  Then 
the  sun  straggled  through  the  clouds  and  the 
second  of  brightness  was  utilized  by  the  guard 
to  run  up  the  headquarters'  flag.  And  the  camp 
was  awake,  ready  for  another  day  of  weari- 
some waiting  while  Congress  squabbled  and 
enemies  destroyed. 

Halowell's  regiment  was  hutted  in  a  hollow 
on  the  side  of  Mt.  Kemble,  at  the  extreme  east- 
ern end  of  the  camp.  His  hut  was  the  last  in 
the  regimental  line,  from  its  threshold  the 
fields  and  woods  of  the  unoccupied  country 
stretching  in  a  long  dip  to  the  line  of  elms  that 
marked  the  Princeton  Pike.  It  looked  less  in- 
viting than  ever  in  the  rain  and  the  state  of  its 


74  Clayton  Halowell 

owner's  mind.  Halowell  clambered  to  the 
ground,  gave  his  horse  to  an  orderly,  and  threw 
himself,  booted  and  spurred  and  wet  as  he  was, 
upon  the  cot  which,  with  a  portable  shaving- 
stand  and  a  crazy,  home-made  table,  constituted 
the  principal  articles  of  furniture  the  one 
draughty,  tobacco-and-leather-fumed  room 
boasted ;  and  with  set  lips  and  eyes  icy  hard,  he 
threshed  the  situation  again. 

On  two  points  he  was  baffled;  the  first,  the 
knowledge  of  the  complicated  politics,  the  rings 
and  inner  rings,  which  whirled  the  camp  and 
Congress  and  made  publicity  of  his  secret  an 
impossibility:  for  where  the  stone  he  set  roll- 
ing might  strike,  and  what  idols  it  might  shat- 
ter, he  had  no  way  of  knowing.  Nor  could  he 
court  publicity  for  a  second  reason — none  less 
than  Olive's  life.  To  seal  the  woman's  fate  be- 
yond redemption,  to  be  the  agent  by  which  she 
would  be  polluted  by  the  cord  and  cap  made 
him  shudder,  grimly  determined  though  he  was 
to  break  the  plot  and  banish  the  plotters.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  were  in  a  maze  and  must  grope 
for  the  exit  indefinitely. 


A  Call  Paid  —  A  Letter  Destroyed    75 

Even,  however,  as  the  great  Alexander  cut 
the  Gordian  knot,  so  did  the  Major  solve  his 
riddle. 

"  By  God,  I'll  do  it !  "  he  muttered,  after  a 
spell  of  thought  had  drawn  lines  about  his 
mouth  and  hardened  his  usually  careless  coun- 
tenance. And  again,  more  soberly,  "  I'll  do 
it !  "  he  said,  as  he  rose  and  changed  his  wet 
uniform. 

An  hour  after  morning  drill  the  blue-plushed, 
gold-corded,  ebony  footman  who  kept  Mad- 
am's hall  ushered  Major  Halowell  into  the 
small  salon,  and  departed  to  apprise  his  mis- 
tress of  her  visitor.  Halowell  had  discarded 
his  uniform  for  a  civilian  suit,  as  more  appro- 
priate to  the  irregularity  of  the  occasion ;  and 
the  figure  he  cut  in  the  wine-colored  coat  and 
shorts,  the  white,  flowered  waistcoat,  and  the 
gold-trimmed,  feathered  beaver  was  sufficiently 
elegant  to  justify  his  dispassionate  admiration 
of  himself  in  the  pier  glass  between  the  win- 
dows. The  waistcoat  was  not  as  fresh  as  it 
had  been  the  previous  year,  and  the  lace  on  the 
beaver  showed  signs  of  many  burnishings.  But 


76  Clayton  Halowell 

despite  these  drawbacks  he  knew  he  looked  well 
— and  was  not  ashamed  to  own  it. 

"  Then  it  really  is  you,"  Olive  said,  as  Halo- 
well  bowed  at  the  door  of  her  boudoir.  And 
by  some  paradox  the  flattering  eagerness  of  her 
voice  smothered  the  vanity  which  had  but  the 
previous  moment  glowed  in  the  visitor's  broad 
breast. 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,"  he  said,  and  crossed  to  the 
window  to  gain  time  to  arrange  his  thoughts. 
Across  the  river  were  the  chimneys  of  Joyce's 
cottage,  smoking  through  the  surrounding 
chestnut  grove.  Beyond  the  pencil  of  smoke, 
over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  a  flag  was  reflecting 
the  sunlight  like  a  great  noonday  star.  And  up 
and  down  the  valley  were  the  scarred  fields, 
each  boasting  a  row  of  log  huts  or  a  clump  of 
stable  sheds  or  some  manner  of  shanty  for  man 
or  beast  or  gun.  The  sight  was  familiar  enough 
to  him,  but  he  studied  it  long  and  carefully. 
Olive  on  her  part,  toyed  with  a  vase  of  flowers 
and  endeavored  to  prevent  her  happiness  from 
shining  in  her  eyes.  She  was  clad  in  a  trailing, 
fleecy  gown  of  pink,  which  was  all  lace  and 


A  Call  Paid  —  A  Letter  Destroyed    77 

frills  and  bunches  of  ribbon.  The  curves  of  her 
waist  and  bust  were  emphasized  rather  than 
concealed  by  the  dainty  covering,  and  her  eyes 
were  pools  of  wonderful  softness.  When  Halo~- 
well  turned  and  saw  them  he  wished  fiercely 
that  he  had  never  conceived  the  idea  of  seeking 
pity  in  this  haven  of  beauty — and  frailty. 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  a  stereotyped  question,"' 
he  said,  abruptly. 

"  Quite  needless — we  are  alone." 

"  Then,"  he  crossed  and  frowned  into  the 
smiling  face.  "Then  I  can  speak  freely? 
There  must  be  no  eavesdropping,  for  your 
good." 

"Good  gracious!"  cried  Olive,  raising  her 
hands  in  mock  alarm.  "  For  my  good.  Then 
I  am  not  to  hear  that  you  have  run  your  colonel 
through,  or  that  your  tender  violet  has  been 
plucked  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  come  to  discuss  myself."  The 
bantering  reference  to  Joyce  was  ill-advised, 
for  it  hardened  Halowell's  heart.  "  You — 
See  here,  Olive,  I'll  not  beat  about  the  bush.  I 
know  what  you  are  doing  here  and  I've  come  to 


78  Clayton  Halowell 

warn  you,  in  defiance  of  my  oath  and  duty,  to 
get  yourself  clear.  I'm  devilish  sorry  it  should 
have  been  I  who  had  to  stumble  upon  the  game. 
But  now  that  I  have  stumbled,  the  only  course 
I  have  is  to  report  at  headquarters.  You  must 
leave  Morristown.  You  can  work  up  a  sud- 
den call  to  New  York  to  see  a  dying  friend, 
or  to  dance  at  Knyphausen's  May  Day  ball,  if 
you  wish.  A  spy  is  not  handled  with  gloves." 

Olive's  face  did  not  change  in  one  line;  but 
she  threw  back  her  head,  which  was  the  only 
sign  she  vouchsafed  of  understanding  this 
thunder  from  a  clear  sky. 

Halowell  waited  a  full  minute  for  an  answer 
and  then  seated  himself  deliberately  on  the  end 
of  a  divan  and  smoothed  his  hat. 

"  You  heard  me?  "  he  said,  gently. 

"  I  heard  a  stream  of  very  incoherent  words 
— a  threat  I  suppose  I  am  to  construe  it." 

"  Not  a  threat,  Olive,  a  warning." 

Madam  de  Laurent  courtesied  low.  "  How 
very  chivalrous.  But  you  may  recall  the  warn- 
ing, sir.  Really,  Clayton,  you  are  ridiculous 
at  times." 


A  Call  Paid — A  Letter  Destroyed    79 

"  You  won't  be  guided  ?  " 
"  And  leave  comfortable  quarters — " 
"  Which  are  maintained  by  English  gold ! " 
Halowell  interrupted,  in  a  sudden  flash  of  rage. 
"  God  knows  how  many  American  lives  these 
1  comfortable  quarters  '  have  cost !  " 

"  You  take  much  for  granted,"  said  Olive, 
coldly.  "  If  you  can  prove  that  I  am — what 
you  do  not  hesitate  to  name — produce  your 
proof  to  the  proper  persons  and  have  done  with 
it.  And  if  you  are  in  doubt  as  to  the  proper 
person,  I  would  suggest  the  Provost." 

The  defiance  allowed  Halowell  a  glimpse  of 
the  difficulties  in  store  for  him.  Olive  must  be 
very  sure  of  herself  to  thus  challenge  him  on 
his  own  ground.  And  yet,  for  all  her  boldness, 
the  woman  knew  her  companion  well  enough, 
and  his  reputation  for  dogged  perseverance 
well  enough,  to  know  that  nothing  short  of 
cold  steel  would  turn  him  from  the  path  upon 
which  he  had  blundered. 

"You  are  determined  it  shall  be  war?"  he 
said.  He  had  risen,  and  Olive  had  drawn  her- 
self up  to  her  full  height  confronting  him.  They 


80  Clayton  Halowell 

were  a  well-matched  pair,  the  lithe-limbed, 
strong-jawed  man  and  the  cool,  clever  woman, 
whose  wonderful  beauty  was  a  better  charm 
than  the  man's  sword.  "  Had  you  not  better 
reconsider?  You  are  forcing  a  very  ungallant 
role  upon  me;  and  I  may  not  be  able  to  save 
you  when  the  truth  comes  to  light." 

"  I  may  not  be  able  to  save  you,  Clayton, 
during  the  time  when  the  truth  is  coming  to 
light." 

"  Hm !  "  Halowell  continued  for  a  few  mo- 
ments longer  to  pay  a  deal  of  attention  to  his 
hat.  "  I'll  take  the  risk,"  he  said  at  length,  and 
looked  into  his  companion's  eyes.  "  There's  a 
moral  side  to  the  matter  I  won't  discuss,  morals 
not  being  much  in  my  line.  But  when  a  man 
finds  a  parasite  sucking  the  very  life  of  that 
which  he  not  only  loves,  but  which  is  his  bread 
and  butter,  his  rank  and  position  in  society,  he 
fights.  You  understand,  he  fights,  Olive !  I've 
done  my  best  to  save  you.  If  you  won't  be 
warned  you  must  bear  the  consequences." 

"  Are  you  trying  to  '  save '  me,  Clayton,  be- 
cause you  were  pleased  to  admire  me  once, 


A  Call  Paid  —  A  Letter  Destroyed    81 

many  hundreds  of  years  ago  ?  "  asked  Olive, 
and  gave  a  short  laugh  and  plucked  a  flower 
slowly  to  pieces.  "  What  a  queer  animal  man 
is,  to  be  sure.  And  thanks  for  your  good  in- 
tentions and  advice.  It  was  very  kind  of  you 
to  consider  me.  But  I  think  I  shall  not  go." 

The  decision  meant  many  things  to  Halowell 
— dangers  which  could  only  be  guessed  at,  an- 
noyances and  discomforts  too  numerous  to  be 
grasped  in  one  thought.  Yet  he  admired  the 
woman's  pluck.  He  would  have  acted  in  the 
same  manner  under  similar  circumstances ;  and 
one  loves  a  kindred  spirit  if  only  for  the  rarity 
of  the  specimen. 

"  That  is  your  final  answer  ?  "  he  said. 

Olive  nodded;  she  dared  not  trust  herself  to 
speak.  In  all  her  life  she  had  never  so  desired 
a  man's  love  as  she  desired  this  man's.  His  de- 
parture meant  the  end  of  an  epoch  in  her  life. 
She  felt  numb  and  cold  at  the  mere  thought  of 
losing  him. 

"  Then  I  need  detain  you  no  longer,  Olive," 
Halowell  said,  and  arose  from  the  divan.  "  I 
shall  unwind  the  workings  of  this  pleasant 


8s  Clayton  Halowell 

arrangement  you  and  friend  Borden  have 
developed  so  nicely — unless,  of  course,  I  run 
into  a  strip  of  cold  steel  some  dark  night;  I 
shall  be  obliged  by  my  oath  to  lay  my  knowl- 
edge before  His  Excellency;  and  there  you 
have  the  programme.  Don't  think  my  motives 
worthy  commendation,"  he  continued,  relaps- 
ing into  a  strain  of  cynical  frankness  quite  in 
accord  with  his  feelings.  "  Don't  think  that, 
Olive.  I  freely  confess  to  not  being  one  of  the 
enthusiastic  fools  who  imagine  the  earth  will 
cease  to  revolve  if  we  don't  whip  King  George. 
But,  you  see,  if  we  are  whipped  there  will  be 
no  army,  and  no  commission,  and  no  Congress 
to  owe  me  money.  That's  a  trinity  of  nega- 
tives at  which  I  balk  and  shudder.  I've  grown 
absurdly  fond  of  respectability  during  the  past 
two  months." 

"  Since  you  went  to  Philadelphia,  why  don't 
you  say,  and  speak  the  whole  truth !  "  flashed 
Olive;  and  before  her  companion  could  reply, 
continued :  "  I  shall  not  plead  my  cause,  Clay- 
ton, nor  do  you  the  honor  of  denying  my  work. 
I  am  here  in  the  interest  of  the  British  govern- 


A  Call  Paid  —  A  Letter  Destroyed    83 

ment — which  can  take  care  of  itself  just  as  I, 
its  humble  instrument,  shall  take  care  of  my- 
self. You  and  I  have  been — friends  all  winter. 
That  is  past  now,  if  you  will  it  so.  Your  duty 
lies  in  hanging  me.  Well,  hang  me  if  you  can. 
But  I  shall  protect  myself.  You  warned  me; 
now  we  are  quits." 

The  forced  calm  had  vanished  and  Madam 
was  her  unbridled  self,  beautiful,  tigerish,  as  de- 
fiant as  was  ever  captive  queen  to  insolent  con- 
queror. Yet  through  her  defiance  there  rang 
a  pain  as  deep  as  ever  seared  a  woman's  heart. 
And  Halowell,  hearing  the  note,  needed  all  he 
had  of  fortitude  and  devotion  to  his  Com- 
mander to  keep  the  course  he  had  mapped.  He 
took  the  woman's  hand  and  kissed  it  gravely. 

"  We  have  made  our  mistake,  Olive,  and  I 
humbly  ask  forgiveness  of  mine  to  you.  You 
are  acting  up  to  your  principles,  and  who  am 
I  to  judge  that  principle?  We  must  go  our 
ways.  Good-by."  A  second  time  he  kissed  the 
hand  he  held.  Then  he  bowed  and  was  gone, 
and  Madam  de  Laurent  was  a  statue  listening 
to  a  firm  tread  growing  fainter  on  the  stair. 


84  Clayton  Halowell 

The  crunch  of  hoofs  came  from  the  drive  be- 
fore the  woman  changed  her  position.  With 
the  sound  she  drew  a  long,  sobbing  breath,  and 
stirred  as  if  her  muscles  were  bound  in  iron. 

"  It  has  come !  It  has  come !  "  she  muttered, 
and  repeated  the  phrase  time  and  again,  until  a 
sudden  frenzy  of  action  dispelled  the  passive 
acquiescence  to  Fate  the  words  implied.  Cross- 
ing to  her  desk,  with  feverish  energy  and  a 
wrinkle  in  her  forehead  half  of  ferocity,  half 
of  agony,  she  selected  a  sheet  of  plain  paper 
and  dashed  off  the  following: 

"  Major  Halowell  knows  all.  See  that  he 
is—" 

The  sentence  ended  in  an  aimless  scrawl  and 
a  passion  of  weeping. 

"  My  God !  Not  that !  Not  that !  "  the  wo- 
man whispered,  reading  a  deadly  peril  in  the 
eight  words  she  had  penned.  "  I — I  can't  do 
that! "  As  if  to  avoid  a  temptation  or  destroy 
a  hateful  object,  she  suddenly  tore  the  unfin- 
ished note  into  fragments.  For  quite  a  minute 
she  was  motionless  save  for  a  twitching  in  her 
lips  and  the  tumultuous  heaving  of  her  breast. 


Major  Halowell  knows  all.      See  that  he  is . 

— Page 


A  Call  Paid  —  A  Letter  Destroyed    85 

Then  she  rose,  white-lipped,   tottered  to  her 
bed-room,  and  closed  the  door  gently. 

And  to  the  end  of  his  days  a  certain  tall  in- 
fantry Major  who,  at  the  moment  of  Madam's 
retirement,  was  riding  moodily  toward  camp, 
remained  in  ignorance  of  the  narrowness  of  the 
margin  by  which  certain  death  had  passed  him 
by. 


CHAPTER  VII 

WHEREIN      ARE      RECORDED      SEVERAL      OCCUR- 
RENCES 

WHEN  Halawell  left  Olive  his  hopes  of 
making  good  his  threat  to  destroy  the  conspir- 
acy were  at  a  dishearteningly  low  ebb;  but 
when,  at  the  end  of  a  week  devoted  to  the  run- 
ning down  of  clues  which  ended  in  nothing, 
and  to  the  tracking  of  Borden  and  Borden's 
friends  on  errands  of  unquestionable  inno- 
cence, he  was  ready  to  doubt  the  prudence  of 
attempting  to  carry  out  his  plans  single-handed. 
In  spite  of  feverish  and  untiring  activity  and 
complete  disregard  for  the  possible  complica- 
tions hinted  at  by  Olive,  nowhere  could  he  find 
proof  of  the  treason  which  was  his  objective. 
And  all  the  while  the  treason  was  making  cer- 
tain and  more  certain  the  destruction  of  the 
man  Clayton  Halowell  idolized  and  the  break- 
down of  the  vehicle  by  which  Clayton  Halowell 
86 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded         87 

had  elected  to  roll  himself  into  power  and  af- 
fluence. 

Under  the  continual  strain  of  his  disappoint- 
ment and  vexation  even  his  duties  grew  irk- 
some ;  and  when  the  seventh  morning  after  his 
interview  with  Olive  he  was  ordered  to  Han- 
over for  picket  inspection,  the  fact  that  the  duty 
would  entail  absence  from  the  seat  of  his  in- 
vestigations came  as  near  to  disheartening  him 
as  his  nature  would  allow. 

A  series  of  petty  delays  kept  him  in  Hanover 
twelve  hours  longer  than  usual,  and  it  was  not 
until  the  day  following  his  departure  that  he 
was  free  to  turn  homeward.  The  previous 
night  having  been  the  first  he  had  missed  from 
his  posts  behind  the  wall  opposite  Borden's 
house  and  the  shrubbery  surrounding  Madam 
de  Laurent's  mansion,  the  certainty  that  events 
had  transpired,  simply  because  he  had  not  been 
present  to  take  cognizance  of  them,  spurred 
him  on  the  road  with  a  lover's  eagerness. 

Midway  between  Hanover  and  Whippany 
the  highroad  bends  broadly  in  a  half-mile  arc, 
and  skirts  a  wide  stretch  of  marshland.  The 


88  Clayton  Halowell 

head  of  the  arc  was  the  crossroad  of  an  unused 
bridle  path  which  led  diagonally  across  the 
marsh  and  cut  a  mile  from  the  two  to  Morris- 
town.  Ordinarily  caution  and  a  regard  for  the 
scarcity  of  horseflesh  would  have  pointed  the 
highway  as  Halo  well's  path.  But  in  his  im- 
patience to  assure  himself  that  his  fears  were 
realized  he  turned  into  the  woodland  road  and 
in  an  instant  was  engulfed  in  a  mass  of  arching 
foliage  and  a  damp,  rustling  silence.  The  scent 
of  the  wet  reeds  and  roots,  and  the  far-away 
call  of  birds  soothed  his  spirits.  He  suddenly 
became  aware  that  he  was  dispirited  and  rest- 
less. His  mind,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  pre- 
vent it,  strayed  to  the  cottage  in  the  lane  and 
to  the  companionable  little  maid  who  presided 
therein,  and  whose  image,  also  despite  his  ef- 
forts to  prevent  it,  was  in  the  habit  of  crowding 
into  his  heart  to  the  exclusion  of  worldly  idols. 
Even  now  the  laughing,  winsome  idol  was  in 
its  accustomed  place.  Was  he  actually — Did 
he  love — 

"  Let  her  have  her  baby-faced  boy !  "  he  mut- 
tered between    his    teeth ;    and   proceeded    to 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded         89 

demonstrate,  with  much  elaborateness  of  detail 
and  argument,  that  the  quiet  of  the  sitting- 
room  and  the  comfort  of  the  afternoon  cup  of 
chocolate  was  what  he  missed  more  than  the 
companionship  of  the  hostess.  Disappointed 
ambition  and  not  despondent  Cupid,  was  pluck- 
ing at  his  heart. 

A  shrill  neigh  put  a  period  to  Major  Halo- 
well's  arguments  by  forcing  upon  him  an  inter- 
est in  his  surroundings.  The  wood  was  very 
thick  and  encroached  upon  the  path  to  such  an 
extent  that  for  two  horsemen  to  have  ridden 
abreast  would  have  been  an  impossibility. 
Water,  moss  and  green  slime  were  deep  upon 
the  sides  of  the  path,  beyond  which  great 
knuckles  of  rock  formed  shallow  valleys  and 
sharp  grades  in  a  wilderness  of  rank  vegetation. 
Occasionally  the  trees  were  sufficiently  far 
apart  to  allow  glimpses  of  the  landscape;  but 
the  glimpses  showed  a  vista  so  desolate,  so  un- 
healthy and  boggy  and  unstable  that  Halowell, 
after  hasty  preparations  for  a  possible  emer- 
gency, decided  the  sound  he  had  taken  to  be  a 
neigh  had  been  in  reality  the  call  of  a  bird. 


9°  Clayton  Halowell  i 

The  decision  had  no  more  than  been  reached 
when  it  was  shattered  by  a  second  equine  greet- 
ing that  came  from  a  dense  patch  of  rhododen- 
drons almost  directly  beside  Halowell.  The 
Major  was  off  his  horse  pulling  it  to  shelter  in 
an  incredibly  short  time.  The  mud  and  his 
slow  pace  had  muffled  his  approach,  he  was  pos- 
itive; and  that  there  should  be  a  horse  in  the 
loneliness  of  this  marsh  was,  to  say  the  least,  a 
singular  circumstance. 

Barely  had  Halowell  gained  the  shelter  of  a 
boulder  and  gripped  his  nag's  muzzle  to  stifle 
its  answering  neigh,  when  the  rhododendrons 
swayed  and  the  sight  of  a  broad,  heavy  face 
inspired  him  with  an  unholy  joy.  The  face  was 
that  of  Mr.  Borden,  contractor  of  oats  to  the 
Third  Division  of  the  Continental  army;  and 
Mr.  Borden's  eyes  and  pose  were  those  of  nerv- 
ous, startled  guilt.  A  minute  he  stood  glar- 
ing up  and  down  the  path;  then,  cursing  the 
timidity  of  his  horse,  he  shoved  a  pistol  beneath 
his  coat  and  disappeared.  No  splashing  ac- 
companied his  departure,  which  fact  betrayed 
to  the  astute  watcher  the  existence  of  a  path 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded        91 

behind  the  rhododendrons.  And  in  a  further 
access  of  joy  he  almost  forgot  that  he  was 
standing  ankle  deep  in  green  slime  and  that 
home-made  patches  are  not  always  water-tight. 

Borden  had  been  gone  several  minutes  before 
Halowell,  with  infinite  caution,  stole  back  to 
the  road.  Two  minutes  later  Bucephalus  was 
contentedly  munching  the  buds  on  an  impro- 
vised hitching-post  behind  a  line  of  willows, 
and  his  master  was  wriggling  his  lithe  body 
into  the  path  which,  as  he  had  surmised,  lay 
behind  the  apparently  impassable  hedge  of  rho- 
dodendrons. The  contractor's  horse  was  in  a 
recess  a  pace  from  the  head  of  the  path.  In- 
voluntarily Halowell  paused  and  glanced  back 
to  see  that  his  retreat  was  secure  in  case  the  ani- 
mal betrayed  him.  The  precaution,  however, 
proved  unnecessary,  for,  after  a  long  stare,  the 
beast  returned  to  its  browsing. 

The  faithless  sentinel  had  no  sooner  dropped 
his  eyes  than  Halowell  was  past.  The  path  was 
a  steep  tunnel  of  green,  and  ended  on  the  edge 
of  a  shallow  basin  completely  masked  by  sur- 
rounding hillocks.  A  turbulent  brook,  the 


92  Clayton  Halowell 

drain  of  the  marsh,  rattled  through  the  depres- 
sion. On  the  bank,  near  where  it  gushed  from 
the  tangled  trees,  was  a  hovel,  and  Borden  and 
a  little,  lean  old  man.  The  former  was  talking. 
Halowell  scrutinized  the  surrounding  vegeta- 
tion, and,  seeing  nothing  to  excite  alarm,  bent 
his  whole  attention  upon  the  conversation  be- 
low. 

"  There  wasn't  as  much  as  a  pigeon  in 
sight,"  Borden  was  saying.  "  The  nag 
screeches  on  every  foolish  occasion.  Here  are 
the  reports,"  and  he  handed  his  companion  a 
packet  at  sight  of  which  the  Major's  finger 
curled  longingly  over  his  trigger.  It  would  be 
so  easy  to  pot  the  scoundrel !  Only  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  fact  that  the  killing  of  the  man 
would  be  largely  in  the  nature  of  slaying  the 
golden  goose,  prevented  the  shot. 

"  And  now  I've  another  matter  to  speak  of," 
Borden  continued,  when  his  companion  had 
stowed  the  packet  carefully  in  an  inner  pocket. 
"  It's  partly  private  business,  but  it'll  pay  you 
fifty  guineas,  Fletcher,  if  properly  attended 
to/' 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded         93 

The  old  man  looked  up  quickly.  "  'Twill 
pay,  you  say?  Then  out  with  it !  " 

"  It  concerns  him — the  last  one,  you  know, 
— Madam's  recruit.  I  want  him  to  pay  a  debt 
for  me,  and  incidentally  to  remove  an  enemy  of 
us  all." 

"  Not  specially  straight  directions,  if  I  may 
say  so." 

"  But  enough  if  supplemented  with  details. 
You're  a  clever  man,  Fletcher,  and  gold  is  not 
so  plentiful  that  you'll  sneeze  at  a  chance  of 
making  some." 

"  Poth !  Where's  the  sense  of  beating  in  the 
bush !  "  cried  Fletcher,  impatiently.  "  Tell  me 
the  chance  and  I'll  attend  to  the  sneezing,  you 
can  lay  to  it.  We'll — No,  sink  me!  Now  I 
come  to  think  on  it,  I'll  have  the  chance  writ  in 
black  and  white.  You  needn't  be  feared,"  he 
continued,  as  Borden  exclaimed  he  would  see 
some  one  further  before  he'd  write  a  word  on 
paper.  "  Muffle  your  fist  if  you  will.  But  I've 
a  certain  method  of  business  which  I  learned 
in  London,  sir,  many  years  back,  gentlemen 
being  apt  to  forget  things  when  it  comes 


94  Clayton  Halowell 

to  a  pinch  with  the  constables  asking  ques- 
tions." 

Apparently  Borden  recognized  the  stolidly 
obstinate  note  in  his  companion's  voice.  With- 
out attempting  to  argue  he  strode  into  the  hut. 
Fletcher  remained  blinking  at  the  brook  until 
he  reappeared. 

"  The  paper's  on  the  table,  names  and  every- 
thing. Work  it  any  way  you  like,  only  keep  me 
out  of  sight." 

"  And  when  do  I  get  the  fifty  guineas  ?  " 

"  When  the  thing's  done.  I'll  take  the  re- 
ceipt for  the  dispatches  Thursday.  Good-by !  " 
and  Borden  strode  up  the  incline  to  the  path 
through  the  rhododendrons,  in  an  apparent  ill- 
humor  at  the  other's  cool  insistence.  Looking 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left  he  unhitched 
his  nag,  and,  after  reconnoitering  the  road, 
mounted. 

Not  before  the  splash  of  hoofs  had  ceased 
did  Clayton  breathe.  If  his  horse  had  neighed 
or  rustled  the  bushes,  or  if  Borden  had  glanced 
at  the  trampled  mud  of  the  path,  hopes  of  re- 
trieving a  former  clumsiness  and  obtaining  pos- 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded         95 

session  of  traitorous  correspondence  intact 
would  have  met,  if  not  defeat,  at  least  a  set- 
back. But  now  the  road  was  clear ;  and  boldly 
appearing  at  the  edge  of  the  dip,  Halowell  ran 
into  the  valley. 

The  door  of  the  hovel  opened  when  he  was 
still  some  yards  distant,  and  the  old  man 
stepped  into  the  sunlight. 

"  Mr.  Borden  sent  me  back  for  the  papers," 
said  the  Major,  after  a  polite,  "  Good  day  to 
you,"  had  failed  to  charm  the  suspicion  from 
the  old  man's  sharp  little  eyes. 

"What  papers?"  interrupted  the  custodian 
harshly. 

"  The  packet  for  New  York.  I'm  to  add  to 
it  that—" 

"  Have  ye  the  pass-word — well,  yes  or 
no!" 

"  Nay,  but—" 

"  Then  off  ye  go,"  snapped  the  man  and 
slammed  the  door — and  found  his  visitor's  foot 
on  the  threshold. 

"  No  use,"  said  Halowell.  "  I  want  the 
papers." 


96  Clayton  Halowell 

To  the  Major's  surprise  Fletcher  stepped 
aside  and  held  open  the  door. 

"  You  want  the  papers,  do  ye?  "  he  snarled. 
"  Then  find  them." 

Halowell  commenced  his  search  with  a  busi- 
ness-like promptness,  and  ran  his  hand  over  his 
prisoner's  coat  and  made  him  remove  his 
boots  and  stockings.  The  papers,  however, 
were  not  forthcoming,  so  he  turned  to  the 
search  of  the  single  room  the  hovel  contained. 
The  mattress  of  the  truckle-bed,  the  bed-clothes 
themselves,  the  cupboard  above  the  fire-place, 
and  even  the  floor  and  walls  were  scruti- 
nized by  a  pair  of  eyes  which,  for  sharpness, 
had  no  peer  in  the  army.  But  in  spite  of 
thoroughness,  not  so  much  as  a  muster-roll 
came  to  light;  and  Halowell,  after  an  hour 
of  unremitting  labor,  was  scowling  down  at 
a  wrinkled,  triumphant  old  face,  confessedly 
baffled. 

"  By  all  the  furies !  I'll  make  you  give  them 
up ! "  he  muttered,  and  whipped  out  a  pistol 
with  a  mouth  sufficiently  grim  to  emphasize  the 
threat.  "  Tell  me  where—" 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded         97 

"Ay,  it  be  grand  air,"  Fletcher  mumbled. 
"  Grand  air  indeed;  fine  air." 

"  None  of  that  damned  nonsense !  You'll 
dangle  high  as  Haman,  my  man,  if  I  have  to 
report  this  to  the  Provost." 

"  Ducks  is  fond  of  water ;  none  will  gainsay 
it,  sir." 

"Zounds!"  frothed  Halowell;  and  then 
stopped  and,  sharp  as  was  his  disappointment, 
burst  into  peal  upon  peal  of  laughter.  "  A 
pretty  kettle  of  fish,  'pon  honor !  "  he  gasped, 
mopping  his  eyes.  "  A  major  of  infantry  coz- 
zened  by  a  wrinkled  old  go-between !  And  coz- 
zened  neatly  too,  by  the  Lord !  Well,  how 
much  do  you  want  for  the  papers  ?  I'll  listen  to 
a  fair  price." 

"  Fair  ?  Where  may  there  be  a  fair,  sir, 
these  days  ?  " 

Halowell  ignored  his  companion's  irrele- 
vancy. "  Thirty  guineas  I'll  bid.  Thirty  won't 
do  ? — then  forty — fifty.  Come !  that's  as  much 
as  Borden  offered  for  his  mysterious  work.  You 
ought  to  entertain  the  bid  for  that  reason  if  for 
none  other." 


98  Clayton  Halowell 

Only  the  flashing  of  the  old  man's  eyes  be- 
trayed his  interest  in  his  inquisitor's  words. 
His  lips  remained  tightly  closed;  and  even 
when  the  sum  of  one  hundred  guneas  had  been 
reached  and  offered  they  were  in  the  same  state 
of  uncompromising  rigidity. 

"  Sink  me !  "  Halowell  exclaimed,  admir- 
ingly. "  You're  an  obstinate  old  devil,  Fletch- 
er. I  can't  strap  you,  much  as  I'd  enjoy  the  op- 
eration— " 

"And  you  can't  find  anything  here,"  the 
man  vouchsafed,  "  that'll  help  you  get  what 
you're  looking  for." 

In  spite  of  the  declaration,  however,  and  in 
the  teeth  of  his  previous  failure,  Halowell  ran- 
sacked the  shanty  a  second  time  before  ac- 
knowledging the  truth  of  the  statement. 

"  I  think  you're  right,  Fletcher,"  he  said, 
when  failure  had  attended  him  again.  "  I  think 
you're  right,  and  I'm  sure  you're  to  be  com- 
plimented on  your  hiding  places.  But  next 
time  I  may  have  better  luck." 

Regaining  his  horse,  Hallowell  mounted 
and  resigned  himself  to  the  mapping  out  of  a 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded        99 

fresh  campaign  which  this  new  clue  made  pos- 
sible. The  conspiracy  was  evidently  huge  and 
of  clock-work  perfection;  and  as  his  thoughts 
led  him  through  a  tangle  of  plan  and  counter- 
plan,  of  plot  and  counterplot,  he  left  pace  and 
road  to  Bucephalus'  choosing. 

An  equine  peculiarity  is  a  retentive  memory 
for  localities  in  which  food  and  idleness 
abound.  Sometimes  this  trait  is  embarrassing, 
as,  for  instance,  when  one  is  driving  the  bishop 
home  and  the  nag  insists  upon  visiting  every 
tavern  in  which  the  groom  has  at  some  time  or 
other  sampled  hospitality;  or  when  one  is  out 
with  the  Newest  One  and  the  brute  swerves 
suggestively  at  the  Old  One's  gate.  Bucepha- 
lus' Nemesis  was  a  certain  narrow  lane  heavily 
shaded  with  chestnuts  and  for  which  he  enter- 
tained fond  recollections  of  long  afternoons 
and  juicy  oats.  After  hesitating  decently  as 
becomes  a  self-respecting  and  docile  animal,  he 
gave  way  to  temptation.  Feeling  no  restrain- 
ing hand  he  jogged  comfortably  over  a  carpet 
of  dried  leaves,  content  in  the  knowledge  of 
well-doing.  When  his  master  finally  ceased  to 


ioo  Clayton  Halowell 

stare  at  the  pommel  and  evolve  schemes  for  the 
capture  of  presumptuous  scoundrels,  and  the 
aggrandizement  of  worthy  patriots,  he  had 
stopped  at  the  foot  of  a  familiar  flagged  walk 
and  was  sampling  one  of  two  flanking  syringa 
bushes,  and  gazing  wistfully  at  the  lawn 
that  sloped  to  the  line  of  willows  on  a  river 
bank. 

What  the  master  saw  was  quite  different. 
He  skipped  the  lawn  in  preference  to  a  dashing 
green-and-gold  chariot  in  the  road,  and  the 
syringa  bushes  for  an  imperiously  beckoning 
little  figure  in  a  window.  An  instant  he  vacil- 
lated between  obstinacy  on  the  one  hand  and 
inclination  and  curiosity  on  the  other.  When, 
however,  inclination  and  curiosity  pull  together 
the  conclusion  is  foregone;  consequently  the 
reader  will  not  be  surprised  when  it  is  recorded 
that  Major  Halowell,  in  spite  of  recent  assev- 
erations to  the  contrary,  dismounted  and  as- 
cended the  flagged  walk. 

"  I  really  should  not  speak  to  you  for  a  most 
uncivil  gentleman,"  Joyce  said,  when  the  new 
guest  had  bowed  to  Madam  and  responded  to 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded       101 

her  greetings.  "  It  is  a  week  since  I  had  the 
honor,  sir." 

"  That  Mistress  Dalton  should  be  piqued  on 
such  a  score  is  indeed  a  compliment."  Some- 
how Halowell's  anger  would  not  stay  in  his 
heart;  and  the  sight  of  the  mignon  little  face 
and  mobile  red  lips  robbed  him  of  his  dignity. 

"  What  pretty  sentiment,"  cried  Olive. 
"  Does  Mr.  Halowell  call  often,  dear  child?  If 
he  does,  take  the  advice  of  an  old  woman  " 
(Olive  could  say  it  charmingly)  "  and  do  not 
trust  a  soldier  because  he  has  been  fortunate 
enough  to  have  secured  occasional  dances  and 
shown  one  the  beauties  of  the  mid- Jersey  hills." 

"  But  I  don't  trust  him  for  that,"  protested 
Joyce  innocently,  and  looked  puzzled  when 
Olive  laughed.  "  He  was  so  kind  while  I  was 
in  Philadelphia,  and  took  such  good  care  of  me 
on  the  way  here  when  George  said  I  could 
come,  that  gratitude,  if  nothing  else,  would 
make  me  glad  to  receive  him." 

The  significance  of  the  "  if  nothing  else  "  in 
the  explanation  did  not  escape  either  Madam 
de  Laurent  or  Major  Halowell.  The  former's 


102  Clayton  Halowell 

mouth  hardened  ever  so  slightly,  and  the  lat- 
ter's  dignity  became  completely  swamped  in  a 
joy  he  did  not  attempt  to  smother. 

"  Gratitude,  my  dear,"  said  Olive  smoothly, 
"  is  a  dangerous  commodity — What  a  sweet 
tidy ;  did  you  work  it  ?  I  must  learn  the  stitch. 
And  what  tremendous  geraniums !  A  slip,  if 
you  love  me;  Neb  shall  plant  it  to-morrow  in 
my  window-box.  And  you've  an  invitation  to 
Lady  Washington's  ball  for  the  thirteenth,  I 
see.  Wear  the  pink  paduasoy,  like  a  good 
child;  it  becomes  you  so  well."  And  Halowell 
was  compelled  to  look  on  helplessly  while  the 
older  woman  pinned  Joyce  fast  by  the  fascina- 
tion of  her  tact  and  graciousness. 

The  task  in  itself  was  not  difficult,  for  most 
girls  are  as  susceptible  to  the  blandishments  of 
an  assured  beauty  of  their  own  sex  as  are  men. 
And  it  required  no  effort  for  Olive  to  charm. 
With  swift  intuition  she  singled  out  those 
things  which  were  the  girl's  household  gods, 
and  proceeded  to  laud  them.  Her's  was  not  the 
off-hand  approval  which  is  a  symptom  of  en- 
nui; it  was  rather  the  careful,  analytical  pick- 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded       103 

ing  apart,  the  unwilling  admiration  of  an  ex- 
pert who  has  met  if  not  a  superior,  at  least  an 
equal.  She  examined  each  petal  and  leaf  of  the 
precious  embroidery;  she  suggested  the  addi- 
tion of  tulips  to  the  flower-bed,  which  was 
Joyce's  especial  care  and  pride;  she  reproved 
the  girl  for  having  sent  regrets  to  a  luncheon 
she  had  given,  and  declared  that  unless  she 
rode  with  her  the  following  afternoon  peace 
between  them  would  be  impossible.  Vainly 
Halowell  strove  to  read  the  object  of  the  flat- 
tery. Furiously  he  cursed  himself  for  not 
using  his  knowledge  to  prevent  a  recurrence  of 
the  scene.  When  at  length  the  siren  gathered 
her  wraps  and  declared  that  she  must  go,  he 
made  no  effort  to  conceal  his  pleasure,  and  was 
promptly  dealt  a  quid  pro  quo  for  the  rudeness. 
"  No,  no,  Joyce  (I  may  call  you  Joyce,  may 
I  not,  dear?) — not  another  moment.  Three 
quarters  of  an  hour  is  not  a  formal  call.  Nor 
can  I  stay  to  chocolate,  witch !  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Arnold  sup  with  me  and  I  give  you  my  word  I 
do  not  even  know  what  has  been  ordered,  for 
I've  been  gallivanting  since  noon.  I  shall  ex- 


IO4  Clayton  Halowell 

pect  you  to-morrow  then.  Good-by."  She 
kissed  the  girl — on  the  mouth,  with  a  look 
which  showed  the  Major  the  triumph  she  felt 
— and  continued :  "  Good  day  to  you,  Mr. 
Halowell.  Shall  I  see  you  Thursday?— He 
used  to  visit  me  now  and  then,  Joyce.  But  a 
newer  and  prettier  face !  Dig  up  the  gratitude, 
child.  Good-by  again !  " 

As  Halowell  handed  Madam  into  her  chariot 
his  bottled  anger  fizzed  up. 

"  I  only  know  one  other  person  who  is  your 
peer  at  play-acting,"  he  said.  "  The  person  is 
very  old  and  very  dirty,  and  he  lives  in  a  pig- 
sty of  a  hole  near  Hanover,  but  the  art  of  dis- 
simulation is  developed  within  him  to  a  degree 
as  wonderful  as  within  you." 

"  Indeed !  "  answered  Olive,  reaching  for  her 
scent  bottle.  "  Who  is  the  paragon,  pray?  " 

"  A  certain  Mr.  Fletcher,  who  is  a  particular 
friend  of  Mr.  Borden's." 

"Fletcher?"  murmured  Olive.  She  bent 
ostensibly  to  see  that  the  lap-robe  was  adjusted, 
in  reality  to  hide  a  sudden  darkening  of  her 
eyes.  "  So  you  have  decided  to  bring  old 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded       105 

Fletcher  into  your  net.  Who  will  be  next — 
His  Excellency  or  Mrs.  Arnold? — Home, 
Jonas ! " 

"What  were  you  whispering  about?  " 
Joyce  asked,  when  Halowell  was  once  more 
upon  his  settle  and  she  was  in  the  be-flowered 
bow- window.  "  I  thought  you  would  never 
get  to  the  end  of  your  story.  Nay,  I  do  not 
really  wish  to  know,"  she  went  on  primly,  as 
her  visitor  frowned,  "  if  it  causes  you  so  much 
trouble  to  remember — The  weather  has  been 
very  pleasant,  has  it  not?  " 

Halowell  damned  the  weather  beneath  his 
breath  and  said,  "  Very,"  above  it. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  been  busy?  "  politely. 

"  Very." 

"  And  have  not  even  been  at  the  Goat?  " 

"  Not  for  a  week,  thank  you." 

There  was  a  silence  during  which  the  girl 
stitched  industriously  and  Halowell  studied  his 
sword-knot.  Conversational  topics  being  at  a 
premium  he  observed  presently,  "  I  heard  of 
you  as  having  been  at  the  Assembly." 

"Yes,  I  was  there— with    Mr.    Winslow." 


io6  Clayton  Halowell 

Whether  the  cut  was  dealt  unconsciously  or 
with  intent  to  hurt,  Halowell  did  not  know.  The 
uncertainty,  however,  did  not  make  the  smart 
less  painful.  He  rose  and  walked  to  the  spin- 
net  and  tumbled  the  music.  If  he  could  have 
seen  the  swift  relentment  that  swept  over  his 
companion's  features  he  might  have  been  less 
angry.  Not  having  seen  it,  he  raged  inwardly 
at  himself  for  a  soft-hearted  idiot  who  had 
given  way  to  a  temptation  from  which  he  had 
been  all  but  freed. 

"Did  you  enjoy  yourself?"  he  managed  to 
articulate. 

"Oh,  ever  so  much!  But  I  wished  you — 
That  is,  every  one  was  very  nice  to  me.  Mr. 
Hamilton  took  me  twice  for  the  minuet,  and  I 
sat  out  a  polonaise  with  Mr.  Lee.  Madam  de 
Laurent  was  the  belle  as  usual.  Don't  you 
think  she  is  beautiful  ?  And  she's  so  good,  too ; 
she  gave  a  hundred  dollars  toward  the  hospital 
fund  yesterday  and  donated  a  dozen  jars  of  pre- 
serves to  the  bazar." 

Halowell  did  not  feel  he  could  conscien- 
tiously discuss  Madam's  charitable  qualities, 


Several  Occurrences  Recorded       107 

and  hastened  to  change  the  subject  by  remark- 
ing, "  Someone  said  your  brother  returned  yes- 
terday." 

This  topic  was  as  unfortunate,  in  one  way, 
as  the  other  had  been ;  it  drove  every  vestige  of 
animation  from  the  girl's  face. 

"  Yes,  he's  returned,"  she  said.  "  And  he'll 
have  a  fever  from  the  worry  of  his  failure. 
Dick  says  there's  some  talk  at  headquarters  of 
removing  him  from  the  staff ;  as  if  he  could  help 
if  a  lot  of  nasty  Highlanders  (they're  horrid, 
red- faced,  shaggy  brutes  anyway),  shot  his  men 
when  he  didn't  expect  them !  Have  you  heard 
anything  about  the  removal,  Mr.  Halowell  ?  " 

Halowell  had  heard  about  the  removal — in 
connection  with  the  utter  lack  of  military  pre- 
caution exhibited  by  Dalton  as  leader  of  a 
foraging  expedition  and  the  inexplicably  care- 
less manner  in  which  he  had  walked  into  the 
enemies'  trap — and  had  been  savagely  glad  at 
the  news.  He  had  even  gloated  over  the 
wretchedness  of  the  few  survivors  of  the  expe- 
dition, which  made  their  commander's  public 
disgrace  the  matter  of  hours.  Joyce  had  hurt 


io8  Clayton  Halowell 

him ;  now  she  was  to  be  hurt  in  turn.  He  had 
pictured  her  every  look,  her  every  thought  un- 
der the  stigma  of  disgrace,  and  had  been  un- 
happily happy.  But  now,  when  he  had  an  op- 
portunity to  turn  the  knife,  for  some  reason  he 
held  his  hand  and  deliberately  said  that  he  had 
heard  no  such  absurd  rumor. 

"  George  is  just  sick  with  the  disgrace," 
sighed  the  girl,  her  mouth  drooping  and  her 
eyes  filling  until  the  last  trace  of  her  visitor's 
resentment  gave  way  to  a  most  disquieting  pity. 
"  He  didn't  want  the  command,  you  know,  but 
they  insisted  upon  his  taking  it.  He  was  at- 
tacked just  beyond  Elizabethtown  and — and 
I'm  sure  no  reasonable  man  can  blame  him  for 
not  expecting  enemies  there." 

"  No  reasonable  man  will,"  Halowell  said 
soothingly.  "  His  Excellency  never — " 

But  before  any  explanation  of  His  Excel- 
lency's doings  could  be  made,  the  knocker 
sounded  loudly  and  Winslow,  waving  a  bit  of 
paper,  invaded  the  apartment.  "  It's  to  Lady 
Washington's,  for  the  thirteenth ! "  he  cried, 
and  Halowell  incontinently  fled. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHEREIN  MADAM  PRACTICES  DIPLOMACY 

"  MASSA  DALTON'S  waitin'  in  de  gilt 
'  saloon  '." 

The  butler's  announcement  fanned  into  flame 
a  fury  which  had  smouldered  in  Madam's  eyes 
since  her  parting-  with  Mr.  Halowell.  She 
made  a  fierce  step  toward  the  salon  door,  hesi- 
tated, and  turned  her  convulsed  face  to  the 
servant's  stolid  ebony  one. 

"  Tell  him  I  won't  see  him !  "  she  whispered, 
controlling  her  voice  with  difficulty.  "  You 
can  say  I  am  ill — tired — anything  you  please. 
If  he  doesn't  go,  call  the  gardeners !  No !  "  as 
the  servant  prepared  to  depart.  "  Wait — let 
him  come  to  me  in  ten  minutes.  Tell  Pom- 
pey  I  wish  him  to  take  a  note  to  Mr.  Borden's 
at  once." 

Dalton's  ten  minutes'  probation  had  evi- 
dently weighed  on  his  nerves,  for  when  he  ap- 
peared at  Olive's  door  his  color  was  that  of  a 
109 


no  Clayton  Halowell 

corpse,  while  his  eyes,  in  horrible  contrast,  were 
glittering  and  desperate  and  panic-stricken. 
A  contemptuous  "  Hump !  "  and  the  pouring 
out  of  a  glass  of  Hollands  was  his  hostess' 
greeting.  Cowardice  was  not  one  of  her 
faults;  and,  like  most  people  so  constituted,  an 
exhibition  of  the  weakness  irritated  her. 

"  I've  more  to  lose  than  you,"  Dalton  mut- 
tered, draining  the  liquor  and  savagely  en- 
deavoring to  steady  his  lips. 

When  a  man  is  driven  too  far  the  animal  in 
him  pauses  and  shows  its  teeth.  The  divis- 
ional line  between  fear  and  desperation  is  as 
fine  as  that  which  separates  the  sublime  from 
the  ridiculous.  Olive  recognized  in  her  com- 
panion's snarling  voice  and  wandering  glance  a 
symptom  which  ordinarily  she  would  have  been 
far  too  wise  to  disregard.  The  worm  threat- 
ened to  turn,  and  as  the  worm  was  valuable,  it 
should,  by  every  rule  of  logic,  have  been  paci- 
fied. But  the  fierce  pain  of  Halowell's  fury  at 
her  kissing  Joyce  was  eating  cankerously  in  her 
heart  and  required  an  outlet 

"  You  have  more  to  lose ! "  she  exclaimed, 


Madam  Practices  Diplomacy        in 

so  contemptuously  that  her  miserable  compan- 
ion flushed  to  his  hair.  "  I  have  been  on  the 
road  this  four  hours  trying  to  undo  your  blun- 
der. Then  to  be  greeted  with — oh!  'tis  un- 
endurable! Do  you  think  staff  appointments 
grow  on  bushes,  or  that  fools  are  kept  forever 
in  places  of  trust?" 

"It  was  not  my  fault!"  muttered  Dalton, 
overlooking  the  fierce  insult  in  an  evident  and 
feverish  anxiety  to  justify  himself  with  this 
hard  judge. 

"  No,  of  course  it  was  not  your  fault — even 
though  the  instructions  read  '  check  '  and  not 
*  destroy/  Is  it  in  reason,  do  you  suppose, 
that  His  Excellency  would  keep  a  bungler  in 
his  family  ?  I'm  trying  hard  to  make  him,  but 
I  almost  doubt  if  the  trouble  is  worth  the  re- 
ward." 

"  If  you  would  only  listen  a  moment,  Olive ! 
The  Highlanders  didn't  heed  the  signal,  and 
they  had  ball  cartridge.  That  was  contrary  to 
the  order.  You  must  see  it  was  as  much  their 
fault  as  mine.  '  If  you  would  only  take  me 
more  into  confidence,  I'd — " 


U2  Clayton  Halowell 

"  Land  us  on  a  rope's  end !  " 

"  I'm  no  worse  than  others,"  resented  Dai- 
ton,  roused  at  last. 

"Nor  better,  if  the  truth  be  told,"  Olive 
flashed  back.  "  But  as  that  has  nothing  to  do 
with  us,  we'll  not  discuss  it,  if  you  please.  The 
problem  we  have  to  solve  is  how  to  keep  you 
on  the  staff  after  this  fiasco." 

The  man  made  a  dozen  uneasy  strides  up  and 
down  the  room,  fear,  repentance  and  apprehen- 
sion painted  upon  his  white  face. 

"  Would  to  God  I  had  never  met  you ! "  he 
burst  out,  and  his  manner,  more  than  his  words, 
were  evidence  of  his  suffering.  "  I've  done  all 
I  could  for  you;  I've  told  what  I  knew,  and 
spied  and  pried  and  listened,  to  learn  more; 
I've  been  the  cause,  through  that  devil  Borden, 
of  many  a  desolate  home  and  riddled  corpse. 
They  were  my  countrymen,  too;  my  God! 
my  own  countrymen!  I'm  a  spy,  a  miserable 
spy — a  snake  that  should  be  ground  into  the 
dirt  and  spat  upon !  "  He  resumed  his  uneven 
walk  and  Olive  stifled  a  yawn.  This  pawn's 
futile  remorse  bored  her.  "  I  did  it  all  for 


Madam  Practices  Diplomacy        113 

you,"  Dalton  resumed,  passionately,  "because 
I  love  you !  I'm  not  the  first  man  who  has  been 
false  to  his  country  and  his  honor  for  a  woman. 
But,  by  God!  I'll  do  my  penance!  I'll — 
Olive,  won't  you  understand !  It  is  your  cru- 
elty that  hurts.  Give  me  my  reward,  and  the 
army,  the  government,  the  world  may  be  an- 
nihilated and  I'll  be  happy.  Won't  you  under- 
stand, Olive?" 

Olive  suddenly  decided  that  she  must  under- 
stand; and  as  proof  of  her  knowledge  treated 
her  humble  rebel  to  one  of  those  swift  changes 
which,  many  times  during  similar  scenes,  had 
reduced  to  ashes  his  flickerings  of  conscience. 
Her  long  lashes  sank,  a  smile  broke  through 
the  clouds  in  her  eyes  and  wreathed  her  mouth 
with  brightest  sunshine — and  behold!  the 
virago  had  melted  into  a  loving,  lovely  woman, 
beautiful  enough  and  tender  enough  to  have 
bewitched  a  more  stable  temperament  than  Mr. 
George  Dalton's. 

"Ah,  George,  dear,  I  do  understand,"  she 
said  softly,"  and  I  ask  you  to  forgive  a  nervous 
woman's  irritability.  I  have  had  so  many 


H4  Clayton  Halowell 

things  to  contend  with  and  worry  me  lately 
that,"  with  an  uncertain  smile  brimming  with 
tears,  "that  my  temper  is  worn  to  a  shred. 
Can  you  forgive  me,  dear?  " 

Forgive  her!  Dalton  was  on  his  knees  in 
an  instant,  covering  the  listless  hand  with 
burning  kisses  and  calling  the  owner  his  beauty, 
his  queen,  his  darling,  almost  sobbing  in  the 
intensity  of  his  love  and  thankfulness. 

"  Hush,  hush,  dear,"  Olive  whispered.  "  I 
am  not  worthy.  In  time,  perhaps,  I  may  prove 
my  worth ;  but  not  now,  not  now."  She  passed 
her  hand  over  her  forehead.  "  We  must  all 
work  out  our  destiny,  I  suppose.  Ours  may 
lie  together — who  knows  ?  But  you  must  bear 
with  me  a  little  longer.  And  now,  do  you  want 
to  learn  of  my  mission  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  learn  that  you  love  me — that  I 
am  not  all  base  in  your  sight." 

"  We  must  clear  you  in  the  sight  of  the 
world  first,  dear  George;  my  feelings  cannot 
change,"  which  last  was  strictly  true,  though 
the  construction  George  placed  upon  it  was 
that  of  a  fool  in  a  fool's  paradise,  "  But  I  shall 


Madam  Practices  Diplomacy        115 

tell  you  of  my  mission  even  though  you  inter- 
rupt with  all  the  gallantries  in  man's  vocabu- 
lary. I  have  interested  Mr.  Arnold  in  your 
behalf,  and  he  is  to  dine  here  to-night  and  tell 
me  the  result  of  his  efforts.  I  think  we'll  be 
successful,  though  the  certainty  is  a  matter  of 
days  yet." 

A  scrap  of  color  stole  into  Dalton's  lips. 

"  I  can  never  thank  you,"  he  said,  brokenly. 
"  My  disgrace  would  have  broken  Joyce's 
heart.  If  she  knew — " 

"  Now,  now,  I'll  not  hear  you  revile  your- 
self," cried  Olive,  holding  up  a  warning  hand, 
which  her  companion  caught  and  kissed  many 
times,  unchecked.  "  As  for  thanking  me,  all 
I  require — at  present — is  that  you  run  away 
like  a  good  boy.  I've  my  toilet  to  make  and 
my  cook  to  scold — employment  for  two  long 
hours,  with  only  an  hour  in  which  to  do  it." 

Dalton  was  jubilantly  happy  when  he  fin- 
ally obeyed  the  command.  Never  before  had 
Olive  been  so  tender,  so  loving  to  him.  The 
days  of  his  probation  were  drawing  to  a  close, 
he  thought,  fondly;  his  constancy  was  begin- 


n6  Clayton  Halowell 

ning  to  bear  its  fruit.  What  was  honor,  coun- 
try, friends,  sister,  to  the  love  of  Olive  ?  What 
was  life  itself  without  her?  He  kissed  the 
hand  she  had  held  at  parting  and  was  utterly 
happy  in  his  unstable  heaven. 

The  sound  of  boyish  voices  raised  in  alterca- 
tion rudely  dispelled  his  dreams. 

"  You're  a  nigger !  "  one  shrill  voice  af- 
firmed, only  to  be  contradicted  by  the  assertion 
that  "  Youse  dirty  white  trash !  " 

"I  ain't!" 

"  You  is  an'  I'll—" 

Smack !     Smack ! 

The  sounds  of  battle  emanated  from  the  road 
ahead,  and  a  dozen  steps  brought  Dalton 
abreast  belligerents  hopelessly  intermixed  in 
the  rough  and  tumble  fashion  peculiar  to  the 
personal  encounters  of  boys  and  puppies. 

"  How  now !  "  he  called,  and  the  rolling  ball 
resolved  itself  spasmodically  into  one  white 
and  one  black  boy.  "  What  does  this  brawling 
mean!  Don't  you  know  that  the  Provost  can 
arrest  you  and  hang  you  for  disturbing  the 
peace?" 


Madam  Practices  Diplomacy        117 

"  Fo*  de  Lord!"  exclaimed  the  diminutive 
son  of  Africa.  "  I  di'n't  mean  to  disturb  de 
peace,  massa.  Dat  boy  say  I  er  nigger  'n  dat 
he  won't  play  wiv  me,"  and  a  solemnly  accusa- 
tive finger  pointed  at  the  panting  white  youth 
who  had  made  the  awful  assertion. 

"  Well,  y'  are  a  nigger!  "  retorted  the  white 
youth,  aggressively.  "  My  brother  said  you 
was  and — " 

"  There,  no  more ! "  Dalton  had  by  now 
recognized  the  darkey  as  one  of  Madam  de 
Laurent's  house  servants.  "  What  are  you 
doing  over  here,  Pomp.  Playing  truant,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  sah.  I  wa'n't  eben  playin'  marbles, 
sah,"  protested  Pomp.  "  I'se — Oh,  Lordy ! 
Lordy !  it's  gone !  " 

The  last  was  a  frightened  wail  and  Pompey, 
after  fumbling  through  his  pockets,  com- 
menced to  search  frantically  amid  the  weeds 
that  had  been  the  seat  of  the  late  war.  After 
much  calling  upon  Heaven's  mercy  and  many 
blubbering  threats  of  vengeance  to  the  unmoved 
author  of  his  trouble,  he  unearthed  a  muddy, 
torn  paper.  The  joy  of  the  recovery  was, 


n8  Clayton  Halowell 

however,  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the 
condition  of  the  missive ;  and  the  luckless  mes- 
senger's woe  found  expression  in  several  dole- 
ful yells. 

•  "  Here,  I'll  fix  it,"  Dalton  said,  good- 
naturedly.  His  mood  was  such  that  he  would 
have  helped  a  teamster  in  the  discharge  of  his 
duties  and  called  him  a  Godly  comrade.  "  Give 
the  thing  to  me,  you  little  scoundrel,  and  shut 
that  bear  trap  of  yours !  " 

The  note  had  become  unsealed  and  was  badly 
crumpled  by  boot-heels  and  the  contortions  in 
which  its  bearer  had  indulged.  Dalton 
smoothed  it  out  on  his  saddle  bow,  meaning  to 
refold  and  enclose  it  in  a  fresh  wrapper,  a  sup- 
ply of  which  were  in  his  saddle-pocket.  But 
he  only  carried  out  the  first  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme for  a  word  in  the  text,  and  then  an- 
other, caught  his  eye.  He  did  not  fold  the  note. 
He  gave  a  smothered  cry,  and,  unheeding 
Pomp's  howls,  galloped  madly  down  the  road. 

Olive  was  submitting  to  Yvette's  ministra- 
tions, her  thoughts  on  many  vexatious  subjects, 
when  the  clatter  of  a  galloping  horse  broke  the 


Madam  Practices  Diplomacy        119 

thread  of  her  reflections.  Yvette  reported  that 
it  was  "  Monsieur  Dalton,"  and  being  wiser 
than  Monsieur  Dalton,  was  not  surprised  at 
her  Mistress'  petulant  annoyance. 

"  You  may  leave  me,  Yvette,"  Olive  said, 
as  her  visitor  entered.  "  Well,  George  ?  " 

Without  answering,  the  man  threw  a  soiled 
letter  upon  the  dressing  table. 

"  Well  ?  "  Olive  asked  again,  this  time  omi- 
nously quiet. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

Olive  glanced  at  the  paper.  "  Tis  very 
plainly  a  note  to  Mr.  Borden.  Would  you 
have  me  call  it  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence? How  did  you  come  by  it  ?  Am  I  under 
surveillance  from  you,  too  ?  " 

"From  me,  too,"  snarled  Dalton.  "You 
never  told  me  what — what  you  wrote  in  that 
note.  I've  been  a  dupe,  a  nonentity,  a  dummy, 
long  enough !  I've  worked  in  the  dark  as  long 
as  I  intend !  Why  wasn't  I  told  that  we  were 
being  shadowed  and  that  the  business  was  all 
but  discovered?  I  want  to  know  why  I  wasn't 
told!" 


I2O  Clayton  Halowell 

Daltons  remarkable  exhibition  determined 
Olive  upon  her  defense ;  her  eyes  softened  from 
violet  to  blue,  and  rilled  with  tears. 

"  Am  I  never  to  have  your  trust,  George  ? 
What  have  I  done  to  deserve  this?  " 

"  Done !  "  cried  Dalton,  furiously.  "  Is  it 
no  slight  to  be  treated  like  a  child — I,  who  run 
the  risks  and — " 

Olive  lifted  her  head  proudly.  "  You  will 
be  sorry  for  those  words,"  she  said.  "  My 
worst  fault  has  been  to  keep  you  in  ignorance 
of  this  peril.  If  it  be  wrong  to  scheme  to  save 
those  we  love,  then  I  cry  my  guilt.  Yet  I  ask 
no  forgiveness  for  it." 

If  Outraged  Pride  had  still  hotter  coals  to 
heap  upon  Repentant  Suspicion,  the  coals  were 
chilled  by  the  complete  abasement  of  the  erst- 
while aggressor.  It  was  ever  the  same  story : 
the  pawn's  intellect,  as  well  as  his  love,  was 
overshadowed,  tricked,  blinded  by  the  clever- 
ness of  the  siren.  Olive  wished  the  task  were 
more  difficult  for  the  sport  of  it. 

"  Give  me  my  share  of  the  burdens,  Olive," 
Dalton  entreated,  humbly.  "  Tell  me  the  name 


Madam  Practices  Diplomacy        121 

of  the  man  who  spies  upon  us.  I'll  warrant, 
dearest,  to  cut  his  profit  of  the  information." 

Olive  hesitated,  her  eyes  ablaze,  her  breast 
heaving.  Revenge  is  sweet ;  and  the  picture  of 
Clayton  glaring  at  her  for  kissing  Joyce  was 
yet  too  recent  to  have  lost  a  particle  of  its  sting. 
She  need  only  tell  the  truth  (as  was  obviously 
her  duty  to  her  companions  and  her  employ- 
ers), and  her  enemy's  body  would  decorate 
one  of  the  numerous  bogs  in  Black  Swamp  or 
rot  in  the  pine-covered  hills.  Then,  quite  un- 
sought, there  arose  before  her  a  clear-cut, 
bronzed,  determined  face — and  she  decided 
hastily  that  she  cared  nothing  for  the  stability 
of  the  British  government  or  the  security  of 
her  companions;  at  least,  not  enough  to  pay 
the  price. 

"  I  do  not  know  who  it  was,  George." 

"  Then,"  there  was  a  quick  return  of  sus- 
picion in  the  man's  voice.  "  Then  how  do  you 
know  we  were  overheard  ?  " 

Olive  had  not  thought  of  that,  but  her  wit 
was  more  than  a  match  for  her  companion. 

"  By  the  vine  outside  the  window.     Oh !  you 


ill  Clayton  Halowell 

can  look  for  yourself  if  you  do  me  the  honor  to 
disbelieve  me.  Open  the  window  and  satisfy 
yourself." 

Dalton,  half  sheepishly,  half  sullenly,  thrust 
up  the  window  and  saw  that  six  feet  below  the 
sill  the  tracery  of  creeper  was  torn  from  the 
wall. 

"  And  you  don't  know  who  it  was?  " 

"  How  should  I  ?  Wisteria  is  not  more 
communicative  to  me  than  to  other  mortals." 

"  But  we  can't  go  on  this  way  without  even 
knowing  our  enemy !  "  said  Dalton,  with  a  fret- 
ful petulance  that  would  have  been  unmanly  in 
a  child  of  ten. 

"  We  must  go  on.  Besides,"  continued  Ol- 
ive, "  the  man  can't  know  much  or  we  should 
have  heard  from  him.  He  can't  know  you ;  he 
can't  know  how  we  get  our  information;  he 
can't  know  how  it  is  sent  to  Sir  Henry ;  in  fact, 
he  can  have  no  knowledge  of  any  real  impor- 
tance, or  which  I  cannot  deny.  What  can  he 
do  except  say  he  heard  me  talking  treason  to 
M-  Borden,  an  old,  respected  citizen,  and  an 


Madam  Practices  Diplomacy        123 

unknown  man  ?  Will  Mr.  Washington  believe 
the  tale,  think  you  ?  " 

"  He  might,"  was  the  pessimistic  reply. 

"  Then  we'll  look  on  that  side  of  the  fence, 
and  suppose  he  does.  There's  a  commission 
waiting  for  you  in  New  York  when  you  wish 
to  change  your  coat  or  your  politics.  And 
now,  perhaps,  you'll  run  away,  satisfied  with 
the  smallness  of  your  mountain.  No !  Not 
another  word!  Come  to-morrow  and  we'll 
talk  the  matter  over  again,  if  you  wish;  I 
haven't  time  now." 

The  moment  her  companion  was  gone,  Olive 
snatched  the  note  from  its  silver  and  satin  sur- 
roundings, and  tore  it  into  a  hundred  bits.  The 
fragments  she  flung  on  the  carpet  and  stamped 
upon  savagely. 

"  I'm  weak,  weak;  and  it's  suicide ! "  she 
whispered,  suddenly  ceasing  her  energetic  ac- 
tions. "  But  I  can't  do  it — I  can't !  Fletcher 
must  move.  Yvette!  Yvette,  I  say!  Why 
don't  you  come  and  finish  my  dressing !  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEREIN   FLETCHER   EARNS   FIFTY  GUINEAS 

MEANWHILE  Dalton  was  riding  across  the 
valley  toward  town  in  a  maze  of  most  disqui- 
eting thought.  He  was  suddenly  conscious 
that  he  really  knew  nothing  of  the  working  of 
the  machine  of  which  he  was  a  cog  and  Olive 
the  engineer.  There  was  little  danger  attached 
to  his  task  of  copying  the  messages  that  passed 
through  the  secret  order-books  at  Headquar- 
ters, but  there  was  also  little  outside  knowledge 
to  be  gained  thereby.  Heretofore  he  had  been 
content  to  bring  his  finished  tasks  to  Olive  in 
return  for  a  vague  hope  of  ultimately  winning 
her  love.  Now,  however,  he  paused  and  asked 
himself  several  pertinent  questions,  and  was 
not  satisfied  with  his  inability  to  answer  them. 

During  his  musings  he  crossed  the  bridge 

over  the  Whippany,  noting  (as  a  man  might 

note  the  position  of  a  log  or  the  color  of  a 

stone),  a  shabby  old  man  leaning  on  the  guard- 

124 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas        125 

wall.  What  he  failed  to  notice,  even  care- 
lessly, was  that  this  individual,  after  watching 
him  enter  the  woods  of  the  upland  leading  to 
the  Newark  Pike,  started  after  him  at  a  walk 
which  was  in  utter  variance  to  his  apparent  age. 

The  man  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  overtake 
Dalton,  and  kept  his  distance  until  the  village- 
green  had  been  reached.  Here  he  became  a 
feeble  old  man  again,  but  changed  so  bung- 
lingly  that  Dalton,  conversing  with  a  couple  of 
artillery  officers  in  the  center  of  the  square, 
saw  the  transition. 

Guilt  is  an  inexorable  task-master;  and  Dai- 
ton's  cheeks  blanched.  He  was  being  fol- 
lowed, tracked,  spied  upon!  A  mist,  broken 
by  a  vision  of  the  hangman  and  black  shame, 
clouded  his  brain.  When  it  had  passed,  his 
terror  was  in  no  way  relieved  by  the  sight  of 
the  old  man's  threadbare  coat-tails  disappearing 
into  the  lane  behind  the  Presbyterian  church. 
For  an  instant  he  lost  his  head  and  thought 
wildly  of  flight.  Then  calmer  second  thought 
pacified  his  unreasoning  terror ;  and  in  the  pur- 
suance of  the  thought  he  bade  his  friends  a 


126  Clayton  Halowell 

hasty  "  Good-day  "  and  trotted  away.  At  the 
Morris  Hotel  the  commissary's  clerk  was  busy 
checking  lists  of  stores,  but  Dalton  took  him 
into  a  back  office  and  talked  arrant  nonsense  for 
ten  long  minutes.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he 
had  persuaded  himself  that  his  apprehensions 
were  groundless.  Yet  the  instant  he  stepped 
into  the  street  he  beheld  the  shabby  man  (this 
time  kneeling  beside  a  wall  removing  a  burr 
from  his  shoe),  and  every  thought  of  conceal- 
ment whirled  away  in  a  flood  of  mad  fear. 
With  livid  cheeks,  dry  throat  and  staring,  sight- 
less eyes  he  went  galloping  up  the  road,  spur- 
ring and  sweating  as  if  every  demon  of  Hell 
were  at  his  heels. 

Like  a  child  whom  terror  forces  to  fly  until 
soothed  by  exhaustion  he  crossed  the  open  fields 
to  the  north  of  the  town  and  dashed  into  the 
woods  beyond.  For  hours  thereafter  the  silent 
pines  watched  over  a  shaken,  unnerved,  and 
childishly-excited  wreck  of  a  man.  When 
finally  Dalton  reached  home,  the  sight  of  his 
haggard  face  frightened  Joyce.  She  begged  to 
be  allowed  to  send  for  a  surgeon.  Her  brother 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas       127 

muttered  shortly  that  he  did  not  need  a  surgeon 
— that  he  was  tired,  not  ill — and  locked  himself 
in  his  study. 

Meanwhile,  the  cause  of  his  perturbation, 
after  staring  at  the  flying  form  of  him  whom 
he  had  started  on  so  wild  a  career,  hardened 
his  evil,  wrinkled,  avaricious  old  face  into  a 
look  of  stolid  contempt. 

"  Frightened,  eh  ?  "  he  commented.  "  Then 
I  must  start  again." 

Retracing  his  steps  past  the  Green  and  the 
church,  the  man  trudged  up  the  Newark  Pike. 
A  stone's  throw  from  the  entrance  of  Dalton's 
lane  he  scrambled  over  a  dismantled  wall  and 
struck  off  toward  the  cottage,  whose  chimney 
tops  were  visible  through  the  trees.  Carefully 
sheltering  himself  from  the  observation  of  the 
inmates  of  the  house,  he  gained  the  thicket  of 
willows  on  the  river  bank,  and  for  three  mortal, 
chilly  hours  muttered  curses  on  a  booby  afraid 
of  his  own  shadow;  stole  furtive  peeps  at  the 
quiet,  sun-bathed  cottage  on  the  further  end  of 
the  lawn ;  and  swept  the  roads  within  range  of 
vision  for  sign  of  the  runaway. 


128  Clayton  Halowell 

At  length  his  patience  was  rewarded.  And 
waiting  only  long  enough  to  allow  the  bustle 
incident  upon  the  master's  arrival  to  subside, 
he  made  a  long  detour  and  crept  cautiously  up 
to  a  window  corresponding  to  the  one  in  which 
Joyce  and  Clayton  were  wont  to  exchange  im- 
personal views  of  life.  The  room  into  which 
he  peered  was  small  and  littered  with  papers, 
whips,  cloaks  and  pipes.  Prone  on  the  center 
table,  fear  in  every  curve  of  his  bowed  body, 
his  wig  awry  and  his  face  buried  in  his  hands, 
sat  Dalton.  With  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders 
and  a  quick  glance  to  make  sure  he  was  unob- 
served, the  old  man  tapped  on  the  glass. 

As  if  he  had  been  stabbed,  Dalton  raised  his 
head  and  clutched  the  pistol  which  lay  before 
him  on  the  table.  There  was  something  inde- 
scribably menacing  in  the  movement  and  the 
look  of  absolute  desperation  with  which  his  face 
was  drawn.  The  would-be  visitor,  nothing 
daunted,  held  up  his  hands  as  a  sign  of  peace, 
and  motioned  that  the  window  be  opened. 
Dalton,  still  holding  his  pistol,  reluctantly,  but 
in  obedience  to  the  pantomimic  suggestion, 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas       129 

drew  the  fastening-pin  from  the  sash  and  thrast 
up  the  window. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  demanded, 
hoarsely. 

"  A  word  with  you,  privately." 

"  Then  say  it  quickly,  damn  you,  and  stop 
dogging  me !  " 

"  We  can  talk  much  better  when  I  am  in  there 
with  you." 

This  suggestion  fired  Dalton's  fright  anew. 
"  I'll  shoot  unless  you  say  your  say  and  be- 
gone !  "  he  snarled,  and  raised  his  pistol. 

"  Even  if  I  could  explain  what  Madam  de 
Laurent  probably  did  not?" 

For  a  second  the  life  of  this  applicant  for 
admission  was  not  worth  a  clipped  penny. 
With  a  gasping,  "  Who — who  are  you?  "  Dai- 
ton  had  the  man  through  the  window  and  was 
standing  over  him  with  eyes  made  mad  by 
terror. 

"  My  name  is  Fletcher,  sir,"  replied  the  pros- 
trate man,  composedly.  "  We — I  beg  you  will 
not  handle  that  pistol  so  carelessly — " 

"  What  did  you  mean  about  Madam  de  Lau- 


130  Clayton  Halowell 

rent  ? "  Dalton's  voice  was  thick  and  his 
breath  was  short.  "  Tell  me  what  you  meant, 
or,  by  God!  you  don't  leave  this  room 
alive ! " 

By  way  of  answer,  Fletcher  struggled  to 
his  feet  and  whipped  out  a  key,  which  he  laid 
on  a  pile  of  enlistment  blanks  on  the  center 
table. 

"  Do  you  know  what  door  that  unlocks  ?  " 
he  asked. 

Dalton  felt  in  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a 
key  which  was  the  first  one's  counterpart,  and 
took  a  dozen  hurried  strides  before  the  fireless 
hearth,  chewing  his  lip.  "  Yes,  I  know,"  he 
muttered,  presently.  "  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  The  owner  was  listening  at  Madam  de 
Laurent's  window  one  night  last  week.  This 
was  picked  up  beneath  the  window.  He  must 
have  heard  something  interesting,  since  he  hung 
to  the  creeper  two  hours." 

Dalton  stared  stupidly  at  the  two  keys. 
"  Hung  to  the  creeper !  Then — then  this  is 
not  Mr.  Borden's  key  ?  " 

Fletcher's  eyes  glittered ;  the  task  was  easier 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas        131 

than  he  had  dared  hope.  "  Mr.  Borden,  Mr. 
Henrv  Borden?"  he  exclaimed.  "You  think 
it  may  be  his  key  ?  Then  you  don't  know ; 
you  have  been  on  the  ground  five  months  and 
don't  know !  Oh,  woman,  woman ! "  He 
burst  into  a  shrill  laugh.  "  Why  is  the  field  of 
diplomacy  barred  to  you?  Why  is  your  use- 
fulness confined  to  the  distaff  and — 

The  visitor's  mirth  terminated  abruptly,  with 
his  host's  pistol  grinning  into  his  face  and  his 
host's  finger  trembling  upon  a  trigger. 

"  If  you  don't  want  a  bullet  in  your  head," 
the  tortured  man  hissed,  "  tell  what  this  chatter 
means ! " 

"  No  offense,  sir.  But  a  man  in  love  is 
blind  and  no  mistake !  " 

"What  of  the  keys?" 

"  Just  that  mine  is  the  property  of  the  man 
upon  whom  Madam  has — shall  we  say  be- 
stowed her  favor?  The  man  is  not  unknown, 
and  it  is  a  wonder  to  me  you've  remained 
blind  so  long." 

"  None  of  your  cursed  riddles !  " 

"Well,  then,  sir,  the  gallant  Major  Halo- 


132  Clayton  Halowell 

well  and  the  beautiful  Madam  de  Laurent 
are—" 

"  Halowell !  "  interrupted  Dalton.  "  Halo- 
well!  Why,  he—" 

"  Has  been  a  model  of  propriety  for  quite 
some  time.  But,"  Fletcher  leered,  "  he  carries 
the  key  of  a  woman's  house;  and  uses  it,  as  I 
can  swear." 

Dalton  had  run  the  gamut  of  so  many  emo- 
tions in  so  few  hours  that  he  was  incapable  of 
more  suffering.  Neither  could  he  doubt  the 
truth  of  this  well-informed  stranger's  state- 
ment, every  word  of  which  coincided  with  con- 
victions he  had  harbored  the  winter  past.  He 
had  never  learned  the  identity  of  the  rival  he 
was  certain  existed;  but  that  it  was  Halowell 
was  more  than  probable.  Indeed,  he  had  only 
to  look  back  at  the  time  when  the  Major  and 
Madam  had  been  constant  companions  and  he, 
fool  that  he  was,  a  dupe  fed  by  promises  and 
careless  scraps,  to  feel  the  absolute  truth  of 
Fletcher's  words. 

"  Have  you  told  anyone  of  this  ?  "  he  asked, 
hoarsely,  and  motioned  to  the  keys. 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas       133 

"  Madam.     That's  all." 

"  You — you  have  told  her !  "  Dalton  did 
not  want  to  be  convinced  that  Olive  was  shield- 
ing Halowell  at  his  expense.  Yet,  he  repeated 
his  question  vehemently,  and  when  Fletcher 
nodded  affirmatively,  dropped  his  head  with  a 
groan. 

"  Well,  now  you  know,"  said  Fletcher, 
"  what  are  you  going  to  do?  Major  Halowell 
doesn't  let  grass  grow  under  his  feet,  and  he'd 
throw  pretty  near  anything  over  to  keep  the 
army  together.  I  know  him  well  enough  to 
know  that,  and  he'll  act  on  what  he  saw  the 
other  night  unless — "  the  tempter  paused  sig- 
nificantly, "  unless  you  act  first — forestall  him, 
so  to  speak." 

Dalton  slowly  raised  his  bloodshot  eyes. 
Fletcher's  face  was  not  a  pleasant  picture  in  its 
yellow,  wrinkled  cunning,  but  of  the  two  faces 
it  was  vastly  the  stronger.  Dalton  fancied  he 
detected  traces  of  a  sneer  lingering  on  the  man's 
thin  lips.  He  rose  and  restlessly  crossed  to  the 
window.  Across  the  river  the  thin  shred  from 
Olive's  chimney  marked  the  preparations  for 


134  Clayton  Halowell 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold's  entertainment,  and  the 
culmination  of  the  intrigue  that  was  to  bolster 
his  tottering  seat  in  His  Excellency's  family 
and  maintain  the  completeness  of  the  spy  sys- 
tem. Often,  after  the  secret  despatches  had 
been  written  and  sent,  he  had  sat  staring  across 
the  valley  at  that  dun-colored  blur,  wondering 
hopelessly  if  he  would  ever  earn  his  promised 
reward.  To-day,  the  valley  was  particularly 
bright  with  the  sun  slanting  over  the  hill  and 
gilding  the  rows  of  huts,  and  the  many  flags, 
and  the  shimmering  river.  But  the  beauty  of 
the  picture  failed  to  arouse  the  shivering,  nerv- 
ous traitor,  whose  face  was  indexing  each 
separate  phase  of  the  mental  torture  he  was 
undergoing.  Doubt,  fear,  hate,  love,  jealousy 
— all  were  depicted  as  they  weighed  the  scales 
against  one  another.  Fletcher,  wary  old 
scoundrel,  let  the  bait  dangle,  content  to  wait. 

"Unless  I  act!"  Dalton  muttered.  "  Un- 
less I  act!" 

He  left  the  window  suddenly  and  crossed  to 
a  small  hanging  cupboard  and  poured  out  a 
glass  of  rum.  After  he  had  gulped  the  liquor 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas        135 

a  light  crept  into  his  eyes  that  tickled  his  com- 
panion's ear  with  the  jingle  of  gold.  The  bait 
had  been  swallowed  and  the  hook  was  biting. 

"  Well  ?  "  Fletcher  said.  The  simple  word 
was  both  interrogative  and  encouraging. 
"Well?" 

"  How  can  I  ?  "  whispered  the  gudgeon. 

"  A  dozen  ways,  sir — I  don't  suppose  you 
want  Mr.  Borden's  help?  " 

"  No,  no !  The  thing  must  be  quiet  and 
quick — the  quicker  the  better." 

"  That's  all  right,  then.  I  have  a  way  to  do 
the  business.  Madam,  I  understand,  used  to 
meet  her  lover  "  (Fletcher  used  the  word  delib- 
erately and  was  not  disappointed  at  the  result; 
Dalton  winced,  and  his  fingers  convulsively 
clutched  his  sword-hilt).  "  Madam  used  to 
meet  her  lover  at  an  inn  called  the  '  Two  Doves.' 
I've  seen  the  place.  It's  on  the  Tappan  road, 
half  a  mile  beyond  the  outposts.  And  there's 
plenty  of  cover  and  little  chance  of  interrup- 
tion." 

The  calm  deliberation  of  these  details  sick- 
ened Dalton.  But  it  was  his  life  or  HaloweH's, 


136  Clayton  Halowell 

Olive's  love  to  an  empty  existence,  so  he  steeled 
his  heart. 

"  The  place  being  settled,"  Fletcher  con- 
tinued, coolly,  "  there's  only  the  problem  of 
producing  our  gentleman  at  the  proper  time, 
which  is  as  easy  as  feathers.  Madam's  heart 
is  broken  because  Mr.  Halowell's  neglected  her 
and  has  unjust  suspicions.  She's — even  bet- 
ter than  the  heart-breaking  scheme — going 
away  and  would  like  to  see  Mr.  Halowell  once 
more  for  old-times'  sake ;  and  won't  Mr.  Halo- 
well  grant  her  half  an  hour  at  the  old  meeting- 
place.  Nothing's  easier,  you  see." 

Now  that  the  way  was  cleared  Dalton's  lack 
of  mental  stability  served  to  make  him  shrink 
from  the  execution  of  the  plot. 

"  That's  all  very  nice  in  words,"  he  said, 
querulously,  moistening  his  lips  with  his 
tongue,  "  but  the  man  must  know  Madam  de 
Laurent's  writing — curse  him !  "  he  added, 
with  a  fury  that  warmed  his  companion's  heart. 

"  Madam  has  a  maid,"  he  said. 

"  The  woman  can't  write." 

"  So  much  the  better,  so  much  the  better, 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas       137 

my  dear  sir.  The  writing  of  a  person  who 
can't  write  isn't  hard  to  imitate." 

His  wit  so  pleased  himself  that  Fletcher 
burst  into  a  cackle,  which  again  nearly  brought 
his  career  to  an  untimely  close.  Dalton  leaped 
to  his  feet,  eyes  ablaze,  pistol  leveled. 

"  By  God !  I'll  shoot  you  if  you  laugh !  " 

Fletcher  cowered  against  his  chair,  and  re- 
mained there  until  his  companion  had  resumed 
his  seat  and  the  fire  had  died  from  his  eyes. 
Then  he  ventured  to  explain  that  no  offense 
had  been  intended. 

"  Will  you  write  the  note  now,"  he  contin- 
ued, "  or—" 

"  Who  said  I  was  going  to  write  at  all  ?  " 
snarled  Dalton.  "  The  plan  was  yours — at- 
tend to  the  details  yourself.  I'll  take  care  of 
the  result." 

"  Unfortunately  my  education,  as  to  writing, 
was  neglected,  sir.  If  you  won't  write,  why, 
the  scheme's  off.  After  all,  you  can't  blame 
Halowell  for  loving  Madam  de  Laurent,  or 
Madam  de  Laurent  for  loving  Halowell." 

This  allusion,  while  its  object  was  trans- 


138  Clayton  Halowell 

parent,  brought  back  to  Dalton  the  whole  bit- 
terness of  his  betrayal.  Scruples  went  by  the 
board  in  a  twinkling.  To  write  would  be  act- 
ing in  direct  violation  to  every  principle  of  cau- 
tion, but  not  to  write  would  be  to  lose  a  golden 
opportunity  of  vengeance;  and  to  have  the  note 
written  by  an  outsider  who  might  have  a 
troublesome  memory  or  an  abnormal  bump  of 
inquisitiveness  was  out  of  the  question.  At 
that  instant,  as  if  in  answer  to  an  unspoken  cry 
for  assistance,  Joyce  called  through  the  door 
to  know  if  she  could  help  George. 

The  girl's  voice,  soft  though  it  was,  galvan- 
ized the  vacillating  energies  of  the  wretched 
cat's-paw.  With  a  quiver  of  relief  and  hatred, 
he  sprang  to  his  feet.  Fletcher,  reading  the 
intention  in  the  set  lips  and  glowering  brow, 
laughed. 

"  Hide  me  first,"  he  whispered. 

Dalton  pointed  to  a  press  which  occupied  one 
corner  of  the  room,  and,  as  the  old  man  slipped 
noiselessly  within  its  capacious  door,  hastily 
wound  a  handkerchief  around  his  right  hand 
and  admitted  his  sister. 


Fletcher  Earns  Fifty  Guineas        139 

"  I  was  about  to  send  for  you,"  he  said, 
steadying  himself  by  a  tremendous  effort.  "  I 
want  you  to  write  a  few  notes  for  me.  I've 
hurt  my  hand." 

"  Not  snapped  another  trigger  on  it,  have 
you,  dear?"  asked  Joyce,  solicitously.  ''Let 
me  see  it.  I'll  make  a  dandelion  salve  and 
bandage  it — " 

"  No,  no !  You  won't  do  anything ;  it's  a 
trifle,  I  tell  you !  Here,  sit  down  and  write." 

Several  times  before  this  Joyce  had  played 
amanuensis  for  her  brother;  and  the  memory 
of  his  commendation  always  lasted  through 
subsequent  days  of  neglect.  So  now  she  needed 
no  second  command  to  seat  herself  before  the 
inkpot  and  quills. 

Dalton  dictated  two  letters,  in  order  to  gain 
time  for  the  final  one.  At  length  his  thoughts 
grew  nimble;  and  in  a  perfectly  impassive 
voice  he  began  a  curt  three  lines,  without  date 
or  address,  so  worded  that  the  acting  secretary 
thought  them  an  unofficial  request  to  a  con- 
tractor for  a  "  private  interview  "  at  "  the 
usual  place  "  the  following  afternoon. 


140  Clayton  Halowell 

"  Thank  you ;  that's  all  for  the  present.  I'll 
make  shift  to  sign  the  things  myself." 

"  How  odd  your  voice  is.  George,"  ex- 
claimed Joyce.  "  You've  taken  cold,  and  you're 
as  white  as  a  sheet !  You'll  have  small-pox  or 
typhoid,  I  know,  unless  you  let  me  send  for 
Mr.  McKnight." 

"  I'm  only  tired,  Joyce,"  Dalton  replied,  and 
almost  pushed  the  girl  into  the  hall. 

Fletcher,  watching  through  a  chink  in  the 
door  of  his  hiding  place,  nodded  contentedly 
two  or  three  times.  He  had  earned  his  fifty 
guineas  very  handily,  he  flattered  himself. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHEREIN  IS  A  DEMONSTRATION   OF  THAT 
WHICH  FOOLS  CALL  CHANCE 

THE  afternoon  following  Mr.  Fletcher's  in- 
terview with  Major  Dalton,  young  Winslow 
brought  a  disconsolate  face  to  the  cottage  win- 
dow by  riding  into  the  yard  and  indulging  in  a 
series  of  antics  evidently  indicative  of  a  desire 
to  break  bones. 

"  It's  pure  joy,"  he  panted,  pausing  at  length 
and  bowing  up  at  the  face  with  a  flourish  of  his 
hat.  "My  stars!  What's  wrong,  Joyce? 
You're  as  blue  as  a  Presbyterian  preacher." 

"  You'd  be  blue,  too,  if  you  had  expected 
someone  who  had  not  appeared." 

"  Making  statements  concerning  the  proba- 
ble thoughts  of  other  persons  is  conducive  to 
trouble,"  averred  Winslow,  and  declined  to  ob- 
serve Joyce's  rebuke  when,  without  noticing 
the  irrelevant  interruption,  she  continued : 
141 


142  Clayton  Halowell 

"  'And  I've  cooked  a  chicken  pie  for  George, 
because  he  dotes  on  them,  and  he's  gone  to  the 
Short  Hills  and  won't  be  home  until  mid- 
night." 

"  Then,  come  for  a  ride  with  me  and  forget 
your  woes." 

"  Conceit ! " 

Winslow  made  a  grimace.  "Honisoit!  But 
you'd  better  come,  my  girl.  The  roads  aren't 
worse  than  usual  and  I've  wheedled  old  Fenton 
out  of  the  afternoon  and  begged  this  nag  from 
Captain  Manderson  on  purpose  to  give  you  an 
airing.  Drilling's  beastly  work :  you've  no  idea 
how  long  it  takes  a  clod-hopper  to  learn  his  left 
foot  from  his  right.  A  fellow  must  have 
diversion  occasionally." 

Joyce  reflected.  It  was  not  yet  too  late  for 
him  to  come — 

"  I'll  have  to  dress." 

"  I'll  wait." 

"  It  will  take — " 

"  An  hour,"  said  Winslow  promptly.  "  I'll 
wait  two;  that  doesn't  scare  me  off.  I've 
brought  you  these,  too,"  holding  up  a  bunch  of 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      143 

carnations,  "  to  put  in  your  bonnie  brown  hair. 
Refuse  now,  if  you  dare." 

Joyce  was  not  proof  against  this  blandish- 
ment. "  Well,  if  you  insist." 

"  I  do,  sweet  maid — decidedly  I  do  insist ! 
tYou're  wasting  time  talking ;  and  as  my  time  is 
paid  for  by  the  government,  ergo — you're  wast- 
ing the  government's  time,  which  is  the  gov- 
ernment's money.  And  wasting  the  govern- 
ment's money  being  treason  punishable  with 
death,  you  must  certainly  see  that  to  detain  me 
longer  with  inane  excuses  is — " 

"  Enough !  "  laughed  Joyce.    "I  fly." 

It  was  one  of  those  perfect  April  afternoons 
when  the  winds  are  resting  and  the  ground  ex- 
hales all  the  fragrance  of  June.  The  river, 
dimpling  in  the  delight  of  freedom  from  win- 
ter's icy  grip,  purred  between  green  banks  and 
ripening  fields ;  the  buds  on  the  chestnuts  thrust 
up  their  tender  feathery  heads  to  drink  the 
balmy  air;  the  bushes,  heavy  with  the  first 
lading  of  spring  finery,  nodded  to  one  another 
in  the  glee  of  their  existence;  birds,  flowers, 
plants,  every  living  thing,  was  joyful  and 


144  Clayton  Halowell 

abundantly,  beautifully,  healthfully  endowed 
with  life.  The  magic  of  the  day  seized  upon 
Joyce.  When  she  was  mounted,  with  Winslow 
a  willing  contestant,  she  raced  up  the  lane  and 
forgot  vexation  as  only  youth  can  forget. 

In  the  highway  the  usual  concourse,  civic 
and  military,  compelled  sobriety  and  was  solely 
responsible  for  the  dignity  with  which  Major 
Dalton's  name  was  upheld  to  a  knot  of  officers 
who  were  in  the  parade-ground  beside  Head- 
quarters watching  cavalry  recruits  at  drill. 

"  There's  Mr.  Hamilton !  "  exclaimed  Joyce, 
as  one  of  the  group  trotted  across  the  field  to- 
ward her.  "  Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Hamilton. 
Your  occupation  is  changed,  I  see,  since  the 
Assembly.  Sitting  out  dances  with  a  girl  must 
be  tame  indeed  compared  with  this." 

"  If  it  is  tame  I  am  but  just  learning  the 
fact,"  answered  the  future  Secretary.  "  Per- 
haps I  talk  too  continuously  on  the  weather 
and  the  ladies'  gowns  at  assemblies.  If  that  is 
so  you  certainly  owe  me  an  opinion  on  the  rela- 
tive merits  of  yonder  would-be  centaurs." 

"A  woman's  opinion  on  the  military!    It 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      145 

would  be  monotonous  flattery,  I  fear.  Good- 
day,  Mr.  Stirling.  I  was  telling  Mr.  Hamilton 
that  I  scarcely  knew  him  as  Mars." 

"  Why,  pray  ?  Is  his  usual  role  that  of  idle 
Apollo?" 

Winslow  felt  decidedly  de  trop  as  this  badi- 
nage flew  over  his  head; when, however,  the  re- 
mainder of  the  group  abandoned  their  inspec- 
tion to  cluster  around  his  old  play-fellow  he  was 
obliged  to  extract  what  comfort  he  could  from 
the  sound  of  her  merry  laugh  and  the  sight 
of  grave  eyes  lightening  amusedly  at  her  sal- 
lies. Stirling  was  ponderously  complimentary, 
Baron  Steuben  cheerfully  critical,  Hamilton 
gaily  superficial,  and  General  Kosciusko,  the 
fourth  of  the  group,  combatively  egotistical. 

"  Your  American  cavalry  is  good,  oh !  very 
good  for  the  fight,"  the  Pole  was  asserting  to 
the  group  in  general  when  Winslow  overcame 
his  sullenness  sufficiently  to  interest  himself  in 
the  conversation.  "  But  they  are  not — not 
clevair  on  the  horse.  Look  at  those  fellow — 
they  sit  like  wooden  men — like  this,"  and  he  set 
his  horse  curveting  while  he  sat  rigid.  "  That 


146  Clayton  Halowell 

is  not  right.  Though  I  try  and  try,  I  cannot 
change  the  men.  They  are  inflexible." 

"  But  they  can  ride;  you  must  admit  that," 
Joyce  interloped  rebelliously.  "  Can  they  not 
ride,  Mr.  Stirling?  " 

"  I  would  not  rashly  pit  my  knowledge 
against  that  of  General  Kosciusko,"  replied 
Stirling,  smiling  at  the  girl's  readiness  to  de- 
fend the  fame  of  her  countrymen.  "  Yet  at 
times,  I  must  confess,  we  have  caused  our 
friends  the  enemy  some  small  trouble  with  his 
baggage  and  forage." 

"  Ah  yes !  I  say  you  can  ride''  retorted  the 
Pole.  "  How  many,  however,  can  do  this?  " 
He  was  off  like  a  flash,  guiding  his  nervous 
little  mare  by  the  motion  of  his  body.  A 
dozen  leaps  brought  him  to  the  center  of 
the  field  where  the  practising  troop  was 
drawn  up  in  double  platoon.  He  gave  a 
short  command — and  away  whirled  the  hun- 
dred men,  a  wavering  line  of  straining 
horses,  sparkling  steel  and  tossing  manes  and 
plumes.  At  the  far  end  of  the  ground  they 
turned  and  charged  back  toward  the  watching 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      147 

group.  A  length  in  advance  rode  the  foreigner, 
pistol  in  hand.  When  half  the  return  distance 
had  been  covered  the  man  gave  a  quick  flip  and 
sent  his  weapon  high  in  the  air,  caught  it  again 
by  the  butt  as  it  descended,  whirled  it  once  more 
on  high,  regained  it  by  the  muzzle,  and,  rising 
in  his  stirrups,  hurled  it  at  an  imaginary  foe 
with  a  yell  that  startled  even  his  well-trained 
mount.  Then,  with  the  troop  thundering  past, 
he  wheeled  out,  a  little  dishevelled  and  flushed, 
but  triumphant. 

"  So !  Can  your  heavy  American  do  that  ? 
Fight  I  grant  you,  but  ride — ah,  no." 

The  awkward  silence  that  followed  the  for- 
eigner's ill-chosen  exhibition  and  words  was 
such  that  even  the  ready  Hamilton  could  not 
gracefully  break.  When,  therefore,  a  lazy  voice 
from  the  rear  of  the  group  said,  "  Your  par- 
don, General,  but  they  can  ride  like  that,  I  feel 
assured,"  every  head  turned  and  every  heart 
welcomed  the  interruption.  Joyce  cried,  "  Good, 
good,  Mr.  Halowell !  "  and  Lord  Stirling  said, 
"  You  should  know  if  anyone,  Major,"  and 
Winslow,  being  too  young  to  mix  in  the  talk 


148  Clayton  Halowell 

of  his  elders  and  superiors,  breathed  a  sigh  of 
thankfulness  that  the  honor  of  the  army  rested 
on  so  goodly  a  specimen  of  its  composition. 

"  You  will  not  deny  that  Mr.  Revere  rode 
well,"  continued  Halowell,  "  or  that  General 
Putnam  was  not  a  master  of  equestrian  art. 
Even  I,  poor  I,  have  several  rides  to  my  credit." 

"  Yes,  yes,  that  I  have  admitted,"  Kosciusko 
cried.  "  But  it  is  not  the  kind  of  riding  we  do 
in  Poland." 

Though  a  thorough  gentleman  and  a  soldier, 
the  Pole  was  apt  to  be  intolerant;  and  Halowell, 
possessed  of  the  Republican  spirit  that  refuses 
to  be  awed,  and  feeling  that  he  had  with  him 
the  good-will  of  the  little  assemblage,  replied : 

"  And  yet  I  think  we  could  do  the  kind  of 
riding  you  speak  of." 

"  A  wager !    A  wager !  "  cried  Hamilton. 

"  A  wager  then,"  retorted  Kosciusko.  "  Mr. 
Halowell  shall  ride  my  mare — or  at  least,  he 
shall  ride  her  or  lose  the  wager." 

"  It's  a  fair  proposition,"  said  Halowell, 
"  only  I've  an  appointment  this  evening  which 
I  do  not  wish  to  imperil." 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      149 

"  Tut,  tut ;  you  are — what  you  call  it — crawl- 
ing," Kosciusko  laughed.  "  I  am  desirous  of 
winning  this  wager  and  the  stakes — whatever 
the  latter  is  to  be — so  I  shall  not  let  you  off." 

"  But,"  demurred  Halowell,  to  whom  the 
idea  of  soiling  his  best  uniform  in  child's-play 
was  not  alluring. 

"  You  must  not  '  but,'  Mr.  Halowell,"  Joyce 
interrupted,  imperiously.  "  This  is  for  the 
service :  you  are  to  refute  a  most  horrible  impu- 
tation or  I  shall  report  the  treason  to  the 
Provost." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Stirling  cried,  entering  into  the 
spirit  of  the  occasion  with  a  zest  begotten  of 
the  dullness  of  a  long  winter  of  idleness.  "  Buts 
are  quite  out  of  order,  Major.  Mistress  Dalton 
shall  reward  the  victor.  Shall  it  be  a  kerchief 
or  a  feather,  Mistress  Dalton?  " 

"  Indeed,  neither.  I  need  the  one  because 
they  are  scarce,  and  the  other  because  the  loss 
of  it  would  cause  ruin  to  my  hat  and  conse- 
quent desolation  to  my  soul." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  cause  woe.  A  flower, 
then?" 


150  Clayton  Halowell 

"  Very  well,  a  flower — and  a  smile  to  boot. 
My  sweetest." 

"  Now  I  warn  you  I  shall  win !  "  cried  Halo- 
well.  "  The  smile  makes  me  invincible,  Gen- 
eral. What  are  the  conditions  of  this  soul- 
stirring  and  important  struggle?" 

"  Sit  my  mare  for  five  minutes,"  replied 
Kosciusko,  "  and  amuse  us  with  a  trick  or  two. 
That  is  all  I  require.  They  tell  me,  Major,"  he 
continued,  airily,  "  that  the  division  hospital  is 
short  of  cots.  You  are  willing  to  take  the  risk, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"  For  a  flower  and  a  smile  ?  Fie,  sir,  for  the 
question." 

The  exchange  of  mounts  was  quickly  ef- 
fected. As  Halowell  settled  himself  and  gath- 
ered up  the  bridle  of  his  new  mount  he  called, 
"  The  Guards  have  an  excellent  veterinary,  sir. 
You  are  willing  to  take  the  risk,  I  suppose?" 

But  the  reply  was  lost  in  a  vicious  equine 
squeal.  The  mare's  silky  ears  had  flattened  and 
her  back  had  arched  like  that  of  an  angry  cat. 
Rearing,  she  executed  a  sort  of  equine  break- 
down, her  rider  clinging  to  the  saddle  in  utter 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      151 

defiance  to  the  law  of  gravitation.  Then,  with- 
out allowing  Halowell  time  to  even  swear,  the 
angry  brute  sent  her  heels  skyward  and  sprang 
back  and  forth,  sideways,  to  and  fro,  in  frantic 
efforts  to  unseat  him.  The  dust  rose  in  a  long, 
eddying  spiral  which  enveloped  man  and  beast 
and  stung  Halowell's  nostrils.  As  the  struggle 
grew  more  severe  his  clear-cut  lips  hardened 
into  a  cruel,  determined  line,  and  his  strong 
teeth  clenched,  and  his  whole  body,  tense  with 
rigid  muscles,  became  the  personification  of  de- 
termination. The  harder  the  struggle,  the 
fiercer  his  resolution.  Death  perhaps :  defeat 
never. 

There  is  something  inspiriting  in  horse- 
breaking  (as  a  spectacle,  not  as  a  pastime).  To 
see  the  iron  muscles  of  man  and  brute  strain  in 
the  tussle  for  mastery,  to  watch  the  quick  play 
of  limb  and  body,  suggests  a  duel,  or  a  bout  at 
wrestling.  Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  dust  grew 
less  dense,  allowing  the  forms  of  man  and  beast 
to  become  visible.  The  mare,  though  trembling 
and  dirt-streaked,  was  still  squealing,  kicking, 
and  balking  with  all  the  desperate  perseverance 


152  Clayton  Halowell 

of  her  sex.  But  the  rider  had  not  even  lost  his 
stirrups,  and  the  sight  sent  a  glow  to  Joyce's 
heart.  Winslow  was  wildly  desirous  of  cheer- 
ing, a  desire  only  suppressed  out  of  deference 
to  the  international  character  of  the  struggle. 
One  excitable  recruit,  however,  in  the  motion- 
less troop  at  the  far  end  of  the  field,  forgetful 
of  discipline,  cried,  "  Give  her  the  curb,  Major; 
give  her  the  curb !  "  until  his  companions  were 
obliged  forcibly  to  suppress  him. 

Halowell  had  won  his  wager,  and  won  it 
neatly.  But  the  impulse  to  do  more  than  merely 
win  was  too  strong  for  his  vanity  to  resist. 
Allowance  must  be  made,  also,  for  the  fact  that 
his  blood  was  up.  He  wheeled  the  now  docile 
creature  and  proceeded  to  give  an  exhibition  of 
rough-riding  such  as  effectually  stilled  Kosci- 
usko's  comments  on  the  lack  of  that  art  in  the 
American  army.  Now  he  was  squarely  erect  in 
the  saddle;  the  next  moment  he  was  bounding 
alongside  his  galloping  mount.  Then,  swiftly 
mounting,  he  was  tearing  around  the  drill- 
ground  with  only  a  leg  or  an  arm  visible  above 
the  saddle.  Finally,  and  without  a  break  in  his 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      153 

pace,  he  regained  his  seat,  drew  his  sword,  and 
sent  the  heavy  blade  glittering  in  intermittent 
flashes  of  white  radiance  twenty  feet  above  the 
plume  of  his  chapeau.  A  mis-catch  meant,  at 
the  very  least,  a  severe  wound.  A  dozen  times 
Joyce's  secret  was  plain  in  her  dilated  eyes  and 
white  lips.  Hamilton  read  it  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders;  Lord  Stirling  read  it  and 
frowned.  He,  in  common  with  all  who  had  met 
the  girl,  admired  her  fresh,  sweet  purity.  If 
Halowell  had  set  out  deliberately — But  pshaw ! 
Halowell  was  hard  and  reckless,  but  he  was 
not  bad:  and  while  his  conduct  was  far 
from  irreproachable  in  many  things,  it  was  all 
that  could  be  desired  in  society.  Stirling  also 
had  faith  in  the  man's  cleverness  to  keep  him 
from  jeopardizing  the  favor  he  enjoyed  at 
Headquarters — which  reflection  betrayed  a 
keen  insight  into  human  character. 

The  "  Bravos  "  and  "  Well  done  "  which 
greeted  Halowell  as  he  pulled  up  and  dis- 
mounted, recompensed,  in  a  measure,  a  lost 
queue-ribbon,  a  torn  waistcoat,  and  a  general 
dirtiness  at  which  his  soul  rebelled.  And  what 


154  Clayton  Halowell 

the  plaudits  did  not  accomplish,  a  scarlet  car- 
nation and  an  accompanying  smile,  did.  Kosci- 
usko  was  the  first  to  offer  congratulations  and 
beg  to  be  taught  a  few  of  the  tricks :  and  Stir- 
ling said  that  Mr.  Lee  would  have  tc  watch  his 
laurels.  And  then  Baron  Steuben  invited  the 
party  to  his  quarters  to  partake  of  some  old 
Marsala;  and  in  the  quaffing  of  the  wine  any 
lingering  sting  evaporated. 


The  patrol  at  the  edge  of  the  Black  Swamp 
touched  his  rusty  helmet  and  smiled  indulgently 
as  two  eager,  flushed  faces  and  a  pair  of  strain- 
ing horses  tore  past  him  and  pulled  up  a  hun- 
dred feet  beyond. 

"  Beat !  "  cried  Joyce. 

"  Oh !  no  such  thing !  "  denied  Winslow, 
more  truthful  than  gallant. 

The  girl  dragged  her  hat  from  her  neck  to  its 
proper  position  on  her  curls.  "  Who  couldn't 
beat  a  girl  ?  "  she  asked  with  scorn.  "  You 
crow  as  if  you  had  performed  a  feat.  I'm  sure 
Mr.  Halowell  would  have — " 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      155 

"  Oh,  hang  Mr.  Halowell !  If  you  are  going 
to  return  to  that  subject  I  shall  go  back  to 
camp." 

"  Very  well  then,  go  back."  There  was  a 
suspicion  of  battle  in  Mistress  Dalton's  voice. 
"  But  I  shall  certainly  talk  of  whom  I  choose." 

"  Have  you  a  claim  on  Mr.  Halowell  ?  "  de- 
manded Winslow,  sternly. 

"  You  are  very  rude.  How  can  I  go  straight 
home?" 

"  You  can't." 

"  Then  what  is  the  nearest  way  ?  " 

"  Down  the  road  until  you  reach  the  red  barn. 
Then  turn  to  the  right  and  cross  the  bridge: 
climb  the  four-step  stile  on  the  left  of  the  apple- 
orchard  you'll  come  to;  scale  a  six-foot  picket 
fence — " 

"  Richard !  "  said  Joyce  impressively.  "  Rich- 
ard, I  think  I  shall  not  speak  to  you  for  a  year." 
And  for  ten  minutes  the  threat  held  good,  at  the 
end  of  which  time  Peace,  in  the  form  of  a  rag- 
ged courier,  came.  The  courier,  being  young 
and  talkative,  and  the  companions  weary  of 
the  silence  their  estrangement  entailed,  the  im- 


156  Clayton  Halowell 

pulse  to  chat  was  mutual.  After  preliminary 
remarks  concerning  the  state  of  the  roads  and 
weather,  the  courier  informed  the  twain  that  he 
was  on  his  way  to  Elizabeth  Town;  also,  that 
he  was  glad  of  the  chance  to  skip  one  day's  drill 
and  stable-duty.  Joyce  replied  politely  that  she 
was  sure  he  must  be  glad;  and  Winslow  re- 
marked moodily  that  he  had  better  take  exercise 
while  he  could,  as  there  seemed  no  prospect  of 
chasing  red-coats  until  June.  This  remark 
naturally  brought  forth  an  earnest  dissertation 
by  the  trooper  on  the  folly  of  inactivity,  and  an 
agreement  of  the  doctrine  (and  a  few  observa- 
tions relative  to  Congress'  squabbling  and  the 
tardiness  of  the  French  fleet  in  beginning  their 
campaign)  by  Winslow.  As,  however,  the 
combined  age  of  both  critics  barely  reached 
forty,  and  they  both  displayed  a  truly  beautiful 
disregard  for  facts  and  conditions,  their  con- 
versation is  scarcely  worth  recording.  It  is  suf- 
ficient to  say  in  connection  therewith  that  it 
gave  Joyce  a  peep  into  the  deep  well  of  her  com- 
panion's wisdom  and  made  her  properly 
ashamed  of  having  allowed  him  to  see  her  child- 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      157 

ishly  angry.  When  the  two  left  the  orderly  and 
turned  homeward,  the  cloud  which  had  marred 
their  sun  had  vanished. 

Now,  though  resolutions  are  commendable, 
conditions  are  often  perverse — an  aphorism  the 
truth  of  which  Joyce  and  Winslow  discovered 
before  they  were  fairly  started  on  the  return 
trot.  Woodland  paths,  carpeted  with  browrn 
pine-needles  and  soft  shadows,  and  fringed  with 
shimmering  green  laurel,  while  picturesque,  are 
not  conducive  to  the  choosing  of  the  shortest 
routes  and  the  speediest  gaits.  Then  there  was 
a  flower  to  be  plucked  here,  and  a  spray  of 
blossoms  to  be  broken  there,  until  by  the  time 
the  last  unexpected  twist  had  been  turned  and 
the  last  senseless  hill  struggled  up  and  the  river 
reached,  the  land  was  dark  with  the  shadow 
of  dusk. 

Their  road  had  brought  them  to  the  slope  of 
a  steep  hill,  below  which  stretched  the  whole 
valley,  scattered  through  with  farms  and  resi- 
dences, flaming  west  windows  and  long  straight 
pencils  of  purple  smoke.  Far  away,  girt  by 
slopes  of  gilded  foliage,  were  the  cantonments. 


158  Clayton  Halowell 

Further  south,  perched  upon  Mount  Kemble's 
long  crest,  glistened  the  village.  Beyond, 
frowning  down  upon  town  and  camp,  were  the 
unfinished  ramparts  of  the  fort  which  Washing- 
ton had  ordered  his  idle  army  to  build,  and 
which  the  men  had  named  (aptly  as  regards  its 
military  usefulness)  Fort  Nonsense.  The  scene 
was  like  the  painting  of  some  cunning  artist, 
only  a  thousand  times  warmer  and  more  beauti- 
fully-tinted than  art  could  have  reproduced  it. 

"  Isn't  it  beautiful !  "  exclaimed  Joyce,  softly. 

"  Very,"  replied  Winslow.  "  Very  beautiful. 
Only  I'm  thinking  more  of  supper  and  a  stable 
than  Nature  and  Beauty." 

"  Have  you  no  soul,  Dick !  I  suppose, 
though,"  with  a  wry  face,  "  we  really  should  be 
home." 

"  Not  necessarily,"  Winslow  replied,  cheer- 
fully. Indeed,  he  did  not  seem  cast  down  at 
the  prospect  of  an  enforced  halt  and,  perhaps, 
a  tete-a-tete  supper  with  Joyce. 

"  I  think  you  care  nothing  of  what  people 
will  say.  To  think  of  a  girl  gallivanting 
through  the  country  at  this  hour !  And  with  a 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance     159 

man!     And  Madam  Knox  the  gossip  she  is. 
What  will  we  do,  Dick?" 

"  Sup,"  said  Dick.  And,  in  reply  to  Joyce's 
horror,  "  Why  not,  please  ?  It's  dark  now  and 
we  are  alone.  So  as  well  be  killed  for  the  sheep, 
I  say.  There's  a  fine  place  up  the  hill  further, 
where  the  sups  are  worth  supping  and  the  view 
worth  viewing.  Think  of  the  brutes,  too.  If 
you  are  inhuman  enough  to  ride  them  six  miles 
in  their  present  condition  I,  for  one,  shall  con- 
fess to  sad  disappointment.  A  girl  who  will 
pretend  heartbroken  grief  over  every  hurt  bee 
she  finds—" 

"  You're  a  fraud !  "  declared  Joyce.  "  You 
led  me  into  this  trap  purposely !  " 

"  Slander — evil  slander,  mistress.  The  ac- 
cusation makes  me  shudder — the  crime  is  too 
heinous  for  my  young  brain  to  have  hatched. 
But  you'll  allow  we  must  eat  and  bait  the  nags ; 
and  the  place  whereof  I  was  speaking  (it  is 
known  by  the  euphonious  appellation  of  '  Two 
Doves  ')  is  as  good  as  any  place  where  one  pays 
gold  to  ruin  one's  digestion  and  glander  one's 
horse." 


160  Clayton  Halowell 

"George  may  return  and  need  me,"  de- 
murred Joyce.  Her  firmness,  however,  was 
plainly  tottering. 

"  The  excuse  is  too  trivial.  Enough.  You 
need  make  no  objection  to  my  ruling.  Joyce, 
we  sup  at  the  '  Two  Doves.'  " 

The  hostelry  was  a  rambling,  shambling, 
brick-and-stone  affair,  boasting  an  out-of-the- 
world  air  and  an  approach  through  half  a  mile 
of  quiet  woodland.  The  door  was  perpetually 
open  and  blocked  by  the  huge  bulk  of  Mine 
Host  Peters.  To  the  right  of  the  hall  (which 
was  broad,  with  the  stairs  making  a  double  turn 
from  a  landing  half  way  up)  was  the  long, 
sanded  tap-room,  bright  with  polished  crocks 
and  white  tables.  To  the  left  were  numerous 
doors,  each  numbered  in  black  paint  and  open- 
ing into  rooms  large  enough  to  serve  dinner 
tete-a-tete.  A  narrow  passage  led  to  the 
kitchen  and,  beyond,  the  yard  and  stables. 

Above  stairs  the  arrangements  were  practi- 
cally the  same,  with  a  long  room  for  banquets 
and  the  small  ones  as  below.  It  was  into  one 
of  the  latter  that  Winslow  led  his  companion. 


That  Which  Fools  Call  Chance      161 

"  Sambo,  my  man,"  he  said  to  the  black  at- 
tendant,— "  Sambo,  dinner.  And  if  King 
George  comes  to  beg  my  attendance  at  court, 
tell  him  I'll  not  stir  until  after  coffee." 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEREIN  HALOWELL  MEETS  A  MASKED  MAN 

CLAYTON  watched  Joyce  and  Winslow  race 
away  from  Baron  Steuben's  quarters  with  a 
queer  mixture  of  content  and  jealousy  tugging 
at  his  heart — the  former  because  of  the  several 
pretty  speeches  of  which  he  had  been  the  recipi- 
ent, and  the  latter  because  of  the  gay  camarad- 
erie between  the  girl  and  her  companion.  Even 
a  certain  piece  of  paper  in  his  pocket,  while  it 
was  gratifying  to  his  vanity,  was  not  recom- 
pense for  the  loss  of  an  afternoon  ride  in  the 
hills  with  Joyce,  nor  the  torture  of  being  obliged 
to  stand  aside  like  a  bumpkin  while  a  slip  of  an 
ensign  mounted  her  by  right  of  escort.  He 
cursed  the  importunity  of  the  note,  the  "  Two 
Doves,"  Olive,  himself,  Winslow,  and  every-? 
thing  that  had  a  bearing,  fancied  or  otherwise, 
upon  his  unhappiness,  and  rode  gloomily  away. 

There  was  only  a  glimmer  of  light  in  the  west 
162 


Halowell  Meets  a  Masked  Man     163 

when,  after  evening  parade,  he  left  his  hut  and 
rode  into  the  Tappan  road.  A  keen  wind  had 
sprung  from  the  north  and  was  rustling  the  last- 
year's  leaves  and  whispering  through  the  forest- 
burdened  slopes  which  slid  down  upon  either 
side  of  the  highway.  He  muffled  his  cloak 
closer  and  fell  to  pondering  Olive's  request.  Had 
she  decided  to  spare  him  the  unpleasantness  of 
his  self-imposed  task,  or  had  she  been  frightened 
by  his  discovery  of  the  man  in  the  swamp? 
Neither  solution  seemed  probable  so  he  settled 
his  cravat  with  a  conceit  as  unconscious  as  it  was 
ingenuous.  Man's  love  is  often  close  akin  to 
gratified  vanity:  and  though  Major  Halowell 
was  ready  to  swear  that  his  motives  in  granting 
the  desired  interview  were  purely  disinterested 
and  patriotic,  he  could  not  prevent  a  pleased 
smile  from  pulling  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
Long  before  his  reflections  on  the  subjects 
of  Conquest  and  Self  had  lost  their  pristine 
sweetness  he  had  passed  the  limits  of  camp  and 
was  trotting  in  the  dark  loneliness  of  the  coun- 
try road.  Except  for  an  occasional  patrol  or  be- 
lated pedestrian  the  highway  was  deserted.  Soon 


164  Clayton  Halowell 

even  these  reminders  of  civilization  ceased ;  and 
by  the  time  the  lights  of  the  "  Two  Doves  "  be- 
came visible,  blinking  high  up  amid  a  back- 
ground of  clouds  and  foliage,  the  road,  as  well 
as  the  country-side,  was  as  solitary  as  the  Neu- 
tral Ground  or  a  county  after  a  visitation  by 
Colonel  Tarleton. 

The  approach  to  the  inn  lay,  as  before  men- 
tioned, through  a  stretch  of  almost  primeval  for- 
est— the  Lovers'  Lane  of  Youth,  the  Bugaboo 
of  Too-Well-Dined.  With  the  first  line  of 
shrubbery  Halowell,  in  habitual  and  totally  un- 
conscious caution,  cast  aside  theorization  and 
became  a  practical  soldier,  to  whom  a  country 
not  open  to  the  most  superficial  glance  is  a 
country  unsafe  for  the  body. 

He  was  half  through  the  maze  of  vegetation, 
and  a  spot  of  light  painted  upon  the  further 
darkness  was  heralding  the  approach  of  the 
open  when  (though  without  a  break  in  his 
pace)  he  cocked  his  ear  forward.  Nothing 
in  the  rustle  and  sough  of  leaf  and  limb  was 
suspicious — 

Hoot!  Hoot!  Hoot! 


Halowell  Meets  a  Masked  Man     165 

A  family  of  owls  was  disagreeing — and  caus- 
ing Mr.  Halowell  to  softly  draw  his  pistols  from 
the  holsters  and  slip  them  into  his  belt.  The 
exchange  had  no  more  than  been  effected  when 
the  underbrush  waved  and  a  single  horseman 
detached  himself  from  a  clump  of  alders  and 
moved  across  the  road. 

There  could  be  no  mistaking  the  man's  mis- 
sion :  the  time,  the  place,  the  manner  of  his  ap- 
pearance were  all  eloquent  of  sinister  motives. 
Halowell  drew  up  sharply,  calculated  the 
chances  of  a  rush,  decided  they  were  poor  at 
present,  and  inquired  the  meaning  of  the  ob- 
struction of  the  Republic's  highway. 

"  The  right  of  might,"  was  the  gruff  reply. 

"  Hm !  May  I  inquire  also,  sir,  why  you  dis- 
guise your  voice?  " 

The  horseman  ignored  the  irrelevant  inquiry. 
"  We  want  you  to  come  with  us,"  said  he — by 
which  command  it  may  be  seen  that  the  bur- 
den of  the  ambush  as  originally  planned  had 
proven  too  great  for  its  originator's  weak 
shoulders.  Though  all  his  plans  had  been  laid 
for  quick  work,  his  lack  of  mental  stability  (a 


1 66  Clayton  Halo  well 

serious  defect  in  one  who  contemplates  a  crime) 
was  preventing  him  from  risking  his  name,  his 
hopes  of  Olive's  hand,  his  very  life,  on  the  one 
throw.  He  had  argued  to  himself  over  and 
again  during  the  long  hour  preceding  the  pros- 
pective victim's  appearance  that  Borden  would 
know  better  than  he  how  to  deal  with  the 
situation.  Once  captured,  the  prisoner  could  be 
either  used  or  put  away  without  the  witness  of 
a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes  and  the  irremediable  in- 
crimination  of  George  Dalton,  Esquire.  He 
said  again,  "  We  want  you  to  come  with  us," 
and  hoped  Borden  would  approve  his  plan  when 
he  brought  the  prisoner  to  him. 

"  Want  me  to  go  with  you  ?  "  said  Halowell. 
"  Who  the  devil  do  you  think  I  am — the  pay- 
master? " 

"  I  know  who  you  are,  damn  you !  Will  you 
come  quietly,  or  must  we — " 

Something  in  the  man's  voice  prompted 
Halowell  to  glance  over  his  shoulder.  He 
caught  the  glint  of  a  couple  of  carbines  pointed 
at  his  back,  heard  the  bushes  on  either  side  of 
the  narrow  road  swaying  in  a  most  suspicious 


Halowell  Meets  a  Masked  Man     167 

manner,  and  decided  it  was  time  to  act.  In  a 
flash  he  had  raised  his  pistol  and  fired  at  the 
figure  in  the  road.  Then,  with  the  man's  angry 
curse  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  the  bang,  bang, 
bang  of  a  pursuing  volley  ripping  through  the 
evening  silence,  he  spurred  for  dear  life,  crouch- 
ing over  his  pommel  to  escape  the  bullets,  and 
praying  fervently  that  Bucephalus  stand  the 
pace.  Of  course  this  was  Olive's  war :  and  he 
had  walked  into  the  trap  with  the  rawness  of  a 
school-boy!  The  worst  these  fellows  could  do 
would  be  too  small  a  punishment  for  his 
simplicity. 

He  was  out  of  the  road  by  now  and  charging 
up  a  stretch  of  open  road.  It  was  heavy  going ; 
and  when  Bucephalus  stumbled  he  attributed 
the  thing  to  the  mud  and  grade.  When,  how- 
ever, the  horse  began  to  groan  and  miss  his 
footing,  the  master  loosened  his  sword  and,  in 
view  of  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  let  the 
foundering  nag  guide  himself  and  looked  back. 

The  nearest  pursuer  was  the  man  of  the 
alders,  and  was  not  half  a  rod  distant.  Halowell 
raised  his  second  pistol — and  lowered  it  again. 


1 68  Clayton  Halowell 

To  be  able  to  fire  last  was  an  advantage  too 
enormous  to  throw  away,  even  though  the 
chances  were  overwhelmingly  great  that  this 
unpleasant  neighbor  would  send  a  bullet  into 
his  back  the  moment  he  turned. 

And  presently  the  moment  and  the  bullet 
came  and  flipped  Halowell's  hat  into  the  road 
and  decided  him,  incontinently,  upon  bringing 
his  own  weapon  into  play. 

But  a  foundering  horse,  galloping,  makes  a 
miserable  gun  platform..  Though  the  fugitive 
turned  squarely  in  his  saddle  (taking  huge  risks 
of  a  broken  neck  thereby),  his  bullet  not  only 
failed  to  slacken  his  pursuer's  career,  but  caused 
the  man  to  deliberately  raise  his  second  pistol. 

This  was  more  than  Halowell  could  endure. 
To  be  shot  at  as  dispassionately  as  if  he  were 
a  practice-dummy  or  a  target  roused  every  com- 
bative instinct  within  him.  With  a  savage 
determination  to  end  the  matter  then  and  there 
he  pulled  up.  The  move  was  so  unexpected 
that  it  ruined  his  pursuer's  aim.  And  before 
the  man  could  check  his  horse  he  was  abreast 
his  infuriated  quarry  and  being  gripped  by  two 


The  fugitive  turned  squarely  in  his  saddle." 

— Page  168. 


Halowell  Meets  a  Masked  Man     169 

particularly  muscular  hands.  Halowell  could 
not  spare  the  time  nor  the  energy  to  tear  away 
the  oval  of  silk  which  masked  the  man's  eyes 
and  forehead.  But  he  did  the  next  best  thing 
— plucked  the  fellow  from  his  saddle  and  flung 
him  bodily,  mask  and  all,  over  the  stone  wall 
that  bordered  the  road.  And  if  the  splash  that 
followed  the  action  were  evidence,  the  invol- 
untary flight  ended  in  that  which  must  have 
cooled  the  highwayman's  ardor.  The  whole 
affair — parley,  flight,  pursuit,  and  struggle — 
had  been  the  work  of  less  time  than  is  required 
in  the  telling. 

"  And  now  for  the  other  gentlemen,"  Halo- 
well  muttered  grimly,  unsheathing  his  sword 
and  wrapping  the  leather  thong  around  his 
wrist.  "  They'll  have  a  mark  or  two  to  remem- 
ber the  departed — Oh  ho !  So  it  has  come !  " 

Bucephalus  stumbled  and  recovered;  stum- 
bled again ;  and  crashed  forward  on  his  muzzle. 
Several  of  the  men  behind  raised  a  shout,  and 
Halowell  felt  that  they  could  well  afford  to 
exult. 


CHAPTER  XII 

WHEREIN  WINSLOVV  PROVES  HIS  METTLE  AND 
HALOWELL  HAS  AN  UNPLEASANT  EXPERI- 
ENCE. 

"WHAT  is  that,  Dick?  There,  there's 
another ! " 

Joyce  laid  down  her  fork  and  listened  to  a 
flurry  of  carbine  reports  crashing  out  in  the  val- 
ley below,  and  a  score  of  answering  shots  rat- 
tling back  in  the  direction  of  the  camp.  The 
cause  of  the  former  is  known :  the  latter  were 
the  picket  signals.  And  so  rapidly  did  they 
leap  from  post  to  post  that,  several  minutes  be- 
fore Dalton  was  floundering  in  the  ditch  and  his 
adversary  preparing  to  show  his  teeth,  regi- 
ments were  stumbling  sleepily  into  rank,  and 
the  guards  at  the  Ford  House  were  crouching 
behind  windows  and  barricades,  carbines 
loaded,  eyes  alert,  prepared  to  resist  the  threat- 
ened attack.  It  was  the  knowledge  of  this  sys- 
170 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         171 

tern,  and  the  certainty  of  the  prompt  appear- 
ance of  a  scouting-party,  that  made  the  as- 
sassins press  their  quarry  so  boldly. 

The  prolonged  firing  caused  Winslow  to 
pause  with  a  spoonful  of  dessert  midway  to  his 
mouth.  Then,  with  a  degree  of  coolness  quite 
in  accord  with  one  of  his  veteran  experience, 
he  remarked  that  it  could  be  "  nothing  worth 
leaving  this  pudding  for;  probably  some  fel- 
lows running  the  sentinels,  as  we'll  have  to  do 
to  get  back,"  and  dismissed  the  incident. 

Not  so  his  companion.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
say,"  she  began,  in  wrathful  trepidation,  "  that 
I'll  have  to  be  shot  at  when  I  start  home  ?  Rich- 
ard Winslow !  How  could  you !  " 

Richard,  however,  was  not  listening  to 
Joyce,  but  rather  to  the  rapid  clatter  of  hoofs 
that  had  followed  the  dying  away  of  the  uproar 
in  the  valley. 

"  By  George !  Something  is  going  on  down 
there !  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  and  was  out  on  the 
balcony  peering  into  the  darkness  before  his 
companion  could  object  to  his  reckless  ex- 
posure. The  whole  household,  from  Peters  to 


172  Clayton  Halowell 

the  scullery  maids  and  the  pot-boy,  were  con- 
gregated in  the  hall  door.  "  Stay  where  you 
are,  Joyce;  I'll  be  back  directly,"  he  called  as  he 
reentered,  and  dashed  from  the  room. 

He  had  barely  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs 
when  the  rapid  stamp  of  boots  sounded  in  the 
flagged  yard,  and  the  group  at  the  door  scat- 
tered right  and  left.  A  man,  bleeding,  panting 
and  sweaty,  stumbled  into  the  hall,  trailing  a 
bloody  sabre  in  his  right  hand.  He  slammed 
the  door  (throwing  his  weight  against  it  as  if 
expecting  an  immediate  attack)  and  felt  for  the 
bolt  with  his  free  hand.  Some  of  the  maids 
screamed  that  the  Hessians  were  coming  and 
the  rest  hid  their  heads  in  their  aprons  and 
howled  lustily. 

"For  the  Lord's  sake!  What  to  do,  Mr. 
Halowell  ?  "  Peters  cried,  despairingly. 

"There'll  be  hell  to  pay  in  a  few  minutes, 
Peters,  you  fat  rascal.  Hello,  Winslow !  "  as 
the  youth  descended  the  stairs  three  at  a  time, 
so  startling  the  pot-boy  that  he  added  his  voice 
to  the  chorus  of  invocations  for  safety.  "  Don't 
ask  the  trouble,  there's  a  good  fellow,  but  see 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         173 

if  the  back  door  is  locked — it's  at  the  end  of 
that  hall  to  the  right.  Peters,  keep  those  fools 
of  yours  quiet!"  he  commanded.  "Well?" 
as  Winslow  reappeared.  "  Everything  right?  " 

The  cornet  saluted  unconsciously  and  re- 
ported all  closed  in  the  rear. 

"  They'll  be  in  at  the  windows,  of  course," 
Halo  well  said,  reflectively.  "  We  can't  help 
that,  but—" 

"  In  through  the  windows ! "  screamed 
Peters.  "  In  through  the  windows,  forsooth ! 
I'm  a  ruined  man !  " 

Halowell  tossed  a  coin  to  the  frightened 
Boniface.  "  That's  for  my  share  of  the  ball.  I 
pay  in  advance,  you  see,  even  though  I  didn't 
seek  the  fun.  And  here  come  our  gentlemen," 
as  the  tramp  of  horses  sounded  above  the  wail- 
ing of  the  women.  "  I'm  going  into  the  tap- 
room, Peters.  Mind  this  door  doesn't  open :  if 
it  does  you'll  be  wearing  a  halo  before  you've 
had  time  to  ponder  your  manifold  sins  and 
wickednesses,"  with  which  cheerfully-delivered 
observation  the  Major  stalked  into  the  public, 
knocked  out  the  lights  with  his  sword,  and 


174  Clayton  Halowell 

stretched  himself  full  length  before  the  window 
overlooking  the  yard.  A  group  of  men  had 
ridden  in  from  the  road  and  dismounted.  One 
of  the  invaders  was  on  the  well-combing  issuing 
directions  and  orders.  A  lantern,  swung  to  the 
sign  board  directly  above  the  throng,  yellowed 
the  mass  of  ragged  hats  and  unkempt  faces,  and 
glistened  upon  the  leader's  mask  and  dripping 
garments.  Halowell  pensively  mopped  a 
scratch  on  his  cheek  and  wondered  why  the  man 
wore  a  false  beard  in  addition  to  his  mask; 
Winslow,  peering  over  the  Major's  shoulder, 
wondered  what  the  trouble  was  about. 

"Who  are  they?"  he  whispered  presently. 

Halowell  laughed,  an  unpleasant,  grating 
laugh  which  made  his  companion  shiver.  "  I 
can't  say,  lad,"  said  he.  "  But  I'll  find  out 
presently,  I  can  assure  you — Hm!  They're 
preparing  some  deviltry.  Have  you  pistols  ?  " 

The  weapons  were  in  the  hall  and  Winslow 
ran  to  fetch  them.  When  he  returned  it  was  to 
find  the  Major  swearing  over  a  newly-discov- 
ered spot  on  his  waistcoat,  and  the  men  in  the 
yard  separating  into  knots  of  two  and  three  and 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle        175 

disappearing  around  the  corners  of  the  house. 
This  was  the  boy's  first  experience  of  a  night 
attack,  an  experience,  by  the  way,  which  is  the 
most  trying  a  soldier  has  to  gain.  It  never 
occurred  to  him,  however,  to  save  his  skin  by 
refusing  to  mix  in  the  quarrel — the  very  cause 
of  which  he  was  supremely  ignorant :  and  Halo- 
well,  though  he  knew  that  men  desperate 
enough  to  assault  a  house  would  not  stop  at  one 
throat  more  or  less,  never  so  much  as  thought 
of  suggesting  the  step.  His  own  code  of  honor 
so  absolutely  precluded  the  abandonment  of  a 
comrade  that  he  accepted  the  boy's  assistance 
as  a  matter  of  course.  He  gave  a  last  look  into 
the  yard,  picked  up  his  sword,  and  led  the  way 
back  to  the  hall  (from  whence  the  noisy  serv- 
ants had  vanished)  and  up  the  stairs  to  the 
broad  landing  midway  in  the  flight. 

At  the  rear  of  this  landing  was  a  door  com- 
municating with  the  back  stairs.  Winslow, 
with  a  pistol  and  a  short  injunction  to  allow  no 
one  to  pass  him  and  so  turn  the  position,  was 
assigned  this  post.  Not  without  a  peculiar  dry- 
ness  in  his  throat  did  the  boy  pass  from  the 


176  Clayton  Halowell 

companionship  of  his  unconcerned  superior  to 
the  solitude  and  doubts  of  his  trust.  Halowell, 
on  the  contrary,  feeling  secure  from  attack  in 
the  rear,  seated  himself  on  a  step  of  the  first 
flight  of  stairs  and  became  deeply  engaged  in 
removing  Jersey  mud  from  his  uniform. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings  that 
Joyce,  unable  to  remain  confined  longer  during 
the  mysterious  preparations  she  both  saw  and 
heard,  and  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  continued 
absence  of  her  escort  (who,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, had  completely  forgotten  his  charge), 
appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Halowell 
heard  the  rustle  of  a  skirt  and  looking  up,  be- 
held a  flower-like,  perplexed  little  face  that,  at 
sight  of  him,  broke  into  a  smile  of  pleased 
surprise. 

"  Mr.  Halowell !  and  why  all  these  war-like 
preparations  ?  "  cried  the  vision.  "  And  what 
have  you  done  with  Dick,  my  recreant 
knight  ?  "  Then,  seeing  something  in  the  man's 
stern  eyes,  "  Is  there  really  trouble  ? "  she 
whispered. 

"There  really  is,"  replied  the  Major,  and 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         177 

wished  heartily  he  could  say  otherwise.  The 
girl's  presence  gave  an  unexpected  and  un- 
pleasant twist  to  the  situation.  If  the  ruffians 
bested  Winslow  and  himself  and,  drunk  with 
the  passion  which  resistance  and  the  sight  of 
blood  inflames  in  their  kind,  found  the  girl — 
He  did  not  finish  the  thought  but  cursed  the 
clear  patch  behind  the  stable  which  had  be- 
trayed him  to  the  enemy.  "  Allow  me  to  sug- 
gest," he  went  on,  ascending  to  her,  "  that 
you  retire  to  one  of  the  rooms.  I  have  stirred 
up  a  hornets'  nest  and  am  like  to  have  the 
swarm  about  my  ears  soon." 

"You — You  are  going  to  fight?"  Joyce 
asked,  faintly. 

"  Not  fight — only  brush  aside  the  hornets. 
There's  nothing  to  be  alarmed  at,  I  assure  you, 
if  you  will  stay  in  your  room  and  keep  very 
quiet." 

The  sudden  whitening  of  the  girl's  lips  may 
have  been  personal  fear,  or  it  may  have  been 
impersonal  apprehension.  She  turned  away, 
and  her  companion,  accepting  the  action  as  a 
dismissal,  abruptly  descended  the  steps  he  had 


178  Clayton  Halo  well 

ascended  to  be  near  her.  It  was  quite  evident 
his  safety  was  of  no  moment  to  the  girl.  And 
why  should  he  care  if  it  were  not ! 

Joyce,  meanwhile,  had  turned  and  was 
watching  Halowell.  The  tallow  dip  in  the  hall 
lit  his  clean-lipped,  determined  mouth,  and 
picked  little  jewels  of  brightness  in  the  corners 
of  his  eyes.  He  was  so  strong,  so  confident,  so 
certain  of  himself,  that  danger  or  fear  did  not 
seem  a  condition  to  be  thought  of  in  his 
presence. 

"  You  will  be  careful  ?  "  the  girl  said,  timidly. 
"  I — Is  there  nothing  I  can  do — ride  for 
help  or, — or  anything?  " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  replied  Halowell. 
And  as  his  voice  was  coldly  impassive  Joyce, 
with  a  puzzled  sigh,  reentered  the  supper  room 
and  closed  the  door. 

Scarcely  had  the  girl  disappeared  when  a 
pistol  banged  and  a  shred  of  smoke  trailed 
from  the  door  leading  to  Winslow's  position. 
At  the  same  instant  a  stream  of  lowering,  in- 
flamed, unshaven  faces  debouched  from  the 
kitchen  passage  and  surged  toward  the  front 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         179 

stairs.  With  no  appearance  of  hurry  Halowell 
laid  aside  his  sword,  raised  his  pistol,  and  snap- 
ped the  trigger.  A  huge,  red-haired,  red-nosed 
fellow  with  one  foot  on  the  stair  clapped  both 
hands  to  his  side  and  pitched  forward,  his 
scream  being  a  horrible  but  logical  echo  to  the 
report  of  the  pistol.  Disciplined  troops  or  hon- 
est men  would  never  have  been  stayed  by  so 
trivial  a  matter  as  one  death.  But  jail-birds 
and  gutter-pickings  are  poor  stuff  at  best,  and 
the  courage  of  this  particular  batch  oozed  away 
at  sight  of  the  twitching  body  of  their  comrade 
and  the  coolly  prepared  man  who  had  sent  him 
to  his  doom.  Halowell  took  advantage  of  their 
wavering  to  rise  and  lean  against  the  ban- 
nisters; and  his  careless  disdain  did  as  much 
as  his  shot  to  further  disconcert  them. 

"  One  moment  before  we  begin,"  he  called. 
He  noticed  that  not  a  man  possessed  a  pistol 
and  made  a  shrewd  guess  that  their  employer 
had  not  dared  to  arm  them  with  so  dangerously 
impersonal  a  class  of  weapon.  "  I  presume  I 
am  at  liberty  to  inquire  the  cause  of  this  en- 
thusiastic desire  for  closer  acquaintance  with 


i8o  Clayton  Halowell 

me  ?  It's  a  natural  question,  I  think,  don't  you  ? 
— you  in  the  mask — and  prompted  by  pardon- 
able curiosity?  " 

The  man  addressed  shrank  nervously  into 
the  door  of  the  public.  The  next  instant  he 
rallied  and  cried  with  an  oath.  "  Never  mind 
his  damned  airs,  men !  There  are  only  two  of 
them !  "  which  seemed  a  weighty  argument,  for 
without  much  ado  the  mass  of  villainy  made  a 
forward  rush  and  started  pell-mell  up  the 
stairs. 

"  Well,  if  I  must,  I  must."  Halowell  hurled 
his  useless  pistol  at  the  head  of  the  foremost 
man  and  stepped  briskly  to  the  edge  of  the 
landing.  As  he  went  to  guard  he  heard  a  clash 
in  the  back  stair  and  knew  that  Winslow  was 
engaged.  He  seldom  misjudged  a  man;  and 
in  spite  of  the  extreme  youth  of  his  co-defend- 
ant he  felt  confident  that  he  need  not  worry  for 
the  outcome  of  that  particular  fracas.  And 
then  the  nearness  of  his  own  stream  of  jostling, 
yelling,  disorderly  assailants  forced  him  to  for- 
get the  young  cornet  for  the  time  being. 

The  first  victim  of  his  sword  was  a  lean,  tal- 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         181 

low-faced  ragamuffin  who  literally  spit  himself, 
and  rolled  backward  cursing;  the  next  was  an 
equally  pleasant-appearing  individual  who 
sported  but  one  eye  and  who,  after  a  ridiculous 
attempt  at  fencing,  shrank  away,  coughing  and 
spitting  with  a  hole  in  his  chest.  But  the  men's 
blood  was  warmed  by  now  and  they  came  on 
bravely  enough,  though,  hampered  by  their 
own  numbers  and  the  cramped  width  of  the 
stairs,  and  opposed  to  a  cool  headand iron  wrist, 
they  made  small  headway.  After  several  min- 
utes of  hard  fighting  this  fact  became  apparent 
to  several  of  the  rear-rankers,  who  decided  that 
their  cause  could  be  greatly  advanced  if  they 
stood  in  the  hall  below,  out  of  the  way  of  their 
comrades.  Two  men  nearer  front  were  pres- 
ently inspired  with  a  similar  idea  and  wriggled 
hurriedly  over  the  bannisters.  Then  the  en- 
lightenment became  general;  and  Clayton  was 
presently  wiping  his  sword  on  a  cloak  left  be- 
hind in  an  abrupt  departure,  the  acknowledged 
and  coolly  complacent  victor  of  the  scrim- 
mage. 

His  period  of  unmolested  triumph  was,  how- 


1 82  Clayton  Halowell 

ever,  short.  Scarcely  had  he  made  sure  of  the 
safety  of  his  companion  and  sheathed  his 
weapon  (which  latter  act  was  a  contemptuous 
insult  to  the  ruffians  cursing  at  him  from  be- 
low), when  an  ale-mug,  and  then  another  and 
another,  whizzed  past  his  head  and  smashed 
on  the  wall  behind.  To  meet  this  novel  method 
of  warfare  he  stretched  himself  tranquilly  on 
the  first  step  of  the  upper  portion  of  the  stairs. 
Occasionally  bits  of  the  broken  crockery  show- 
ered his  boots,  but  beyond  scratching  the 
leather  they  were  of  no  avail  toward  dislodging 
him. 

"  Do  you  need  me,  Mr.  Halowell  ?  "  Wins- 
low  called,  alarmed  at  the  racket  of  the  break- 
ing mugs. 

"  No,  thanks.  The  gentlemen,  like  a  famous 
king,  marched  up  to  me,  and  marched  down 
again.  Now  they  are  wasting  Peters's  mugs 
and  their  own  valuable  time  in  a  harmless 
amusement.  Did  you  have  much  trouble, 
lad?" 

"  Only  two  came,"  was  the  rueful  reply. 
"  Know  who  the  fellows  are  yet?  " 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         183 

"  Not  I — (Nay,  my  good  friend  in  the  Jo- 
seph coat,  no  nearer) — Candidates  for  Johnny 
Hangman,  I  expect.  Sink  me!  but  I  think 
they're  going! —  Surely  you  cannot  stop 
so  soon  gentlemen.  Why,  you  are  four, 
five — seven,  and  we  are  two.  To  confess  your- 
self beaten  will  disgrace  American  manhood; 
and  the  girls  will  never  look  at  you  again — 
never."  He  laughed  and  smoothed  his  frill 
daintily.  Then,  in  wanton  recklessness,  he 
resumed. 

"  That  masked  gentleman — you  who  popped 
at  me  so  systematically  out  on  the  road  (Yes, 
you  I  mean!) — suppose  we  try  a  go,  just  to 
keep  the  company  amused.  You  won't?  Then 
go  away  please,  and  call  off  your  friends :  I'm 
hungry  and  you  keep  me  from  dining.  Chut ! 
Don't  scowl  at  me,  you  tow-headed,  cabbage- 
eater  in  the  corner !  I've  a  mind  to  come  down 
and  bundle  you  into  the  horse-trough.  And 
drop  that  platter  or  I'll  do  more  than  duck 
you ! " 

So  tremendous  is  the  weight  of  moral  cour- 
age that  the  fellow  addressed  actually  dropped 


184  Clayton  Halowell 

the  missile  he  was  in  the  act  of  throwing.  And 
his  action  was  a  clear  index  to  his  comrades' 
state  of  mind.  Like  curs,  they  were  thoroughly 
cowed  by  a  few  kicks — a  fact  which  the  masked 
leader  discovered  when,  gliding  among  them, 
he  whispered,  exhorted,  and  threatened,  and, 
beyond  a  scowl  or  an  uncertain  shake  of  the 
head,  received  no  encouragement  to  whatever 
proposal  he  was  making.  Baffled  and  raging, 
the  man  returned  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  To 
be  so  near  the  quarry  and  be  balked  of  it  was 
more  than  he  could  swallow.  Besides,  though 
a  moral,  Dalton  was  not  a  physical  coward, 
and  he  had  staked  too  much  on  this  throw  to 
lose. 

"  Well  ?  "  Clayton  said,  rising  and  bowing 
ironically.  "Are  you  considering  my  invita- 
tion, sir,  or  admiring  the  cut  of  my  waistcoat? 
— So  ho !  You're  going  to  try  your  hand  after 
all !  Welcome." 

Dalton's  eyes  were  fixed  on  Halowell's  blade 
with  the  intensity  of  a  practised  fencer,  as,  step 
by  step,  he  ascended  the  stairs.  He  evidently 
expected  to  be  obliged  to  fight  his  way  to  the 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         185 

landing;  but  his  opponent,  carelessly  disdain- 
ing to  use  the  advantage  of  position,  waited  un- 
til his  footing  was  as  secure  as  his  own. 

During  the  first  passes  Halowell  discovered 
that  he  was  opposed  to  a  skillful  fencer.  "  I'll 
have  to  mind  my  play,  I  see,"  he  remarked,  as 
his  opponent  flashed  beneath  his  guard  and 
brought  a  dribble  of  blood  to  his  shirt  front. 

"  You'll  have  to  mind  more  than  your 
play ! "  the  man  muttered,  and  there  was  such 
intense  hatred  in  his  voice  that  Halowell  was 
startled.  Until  that  instant  he  had  sup- 
posed the  men  merely  Olive's  paid  assassins,  a 
supposition,  however,  which  the  man's  passion 
incontinently  shattered.  Yet  if  they  were  not  in 
Olive's  pay,  who  were  they?  He  ran  over  his 
list  of  enemies  but  could  think  of  no  one  who 
would  risk  his  neck  for  the  sake  of  avenging 
an  off-hand  slight.  Duke,  of  Muhlenberg's,  was 
not  above  trying  a  shot  from  behind  a  fence; 
but  Duke  would  never  go  in  for  an  expensive 
attacking  force.  Coughlin,  of  the  Fifth  New 
York,  had  sworn  to  get  even  for  an  arrest  he 
had  been  pleased  to  lay  to  Major  Halowell ;  but 


1 86  Clayton  Halowell 

Coughlin  could  not  use  his  sword  as  well  as  a 
cat  could  use  a  poker.  The  fellows  might  be 
— Halowell  smiled  at  the  thought — they  might 
be  the  hirelings  of  some  jealous  flame  of 
Olive's.  At  any  rate,  the  last  was  not  an  im- 
probable nor  an  objectionable  solution  to  the 
problem,  and  he  accepted  it. 

In  pursuance  of  a  determination  to  neglect 
nothing  that  could  contribute  to  his  advance- 
ment, Halowell  had  practised  untiringly  with 
the  sword.  Many  a  hard  day's  march  or 
harder  fight  had  been  topped  by  an  hour  with 
the  foils.  Inclement  weather,  fatigue,  even 
sickness,  were  sunk  during  these  lessons ;  noth- 
ing short  of  the  absence  of  himself  or  the 
French  veteran  whom  he  had  impressed  as  in- 
structor delayed  them.  Soon  there  came  a 
time  when  the  instructor  could  teach  nothing 
more.  Yet  Halowell,  cunning  swordsman 
though  he  was,  found  his  present  adversary 
fully  his  equal.  In  technique,  in  agility,  in  de- 
fense and  offense,  the  man  was  his  peer.  And 
after  five  minutes  of  furious  fighting  he  began 
to  think  less  of  pretty  sword-play  than  of  a 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         187 

whole  skin.  Some  of  the  boldest  of  the  men, 
too,  were  creeping  up  the  stairs;  and  the  sud- 
den clashing  on  the  back  stairs  told  of  the  fight 
renewed  there. 

The  situation  was  desperate  and  required  a 
desperate  remedy.  And  a  desperate  remedy 
was  applied.  Reckless  of  consequences,  utterly 
disregarding  every  rule  of  swordmanship, 
Halowell  took  the  bull  by  the  horns.  Flinging 
guard  to  the  winds  he  put  all  his  strength  and 
faith  in  one  lunge  in  carte. 

Rapid  as  had  been  the  action,  Dalton  was 
prepared.  Though  for  only  the  fraction  of  a 
second  was  Halowell  uncovered,  the  fraction 
was  sufficient  for  a  strip  of  steel  to  dart  for- 
ward, flashing  like  a  streak  of  white  fire,  and 
bite.  A  thrill  of  pain  numbed  Halowell's  arm. 
Down  clattered  his  sword,  a  useless  weight 
dangling  to  his  wrist.  A  red  mist  wavered  be- 
fore his  eyes  and  blotted  the  impassive  mask  and 
beard  from  his  vision.  He  tried  to  raise  his 
weapon  to  guard ;  failed  absolutely ;  and  turned 
his  chest  defiantly  to  his  conqueror,  who  was 
waving  back  his  valiant  following,  that  the 


1 88  Clayton  Halowell 

sweetness  of  the  final  thrust  might  not  be 
marred. 

Then,  upon  the  tense  silence  was  flung  the 
patter  of  steps  and  a  woman's  scream. 

"  Murdered !  "  gasped  Joyce,  her  arms  flung 
out  to  intercept  the  descending  sword,  her  eyes 
fierce  as  a  tigress.  "  Murderer!  " 

If  it  had  been  the  Fiend  himself  who  had 
thus  appeared  Dalton  could  not  have  shrunk 
further.  His  sword  indeed,  remained  raised, 
but  his  shaking  hand  and  chalky  lips  made  the 
pose  a  mockery. 

"  Murdered !  "  gasped  Joyce  again.  The 
sound  of  her  voice,  muffled  yet  horribly  shrill, 
cleared  Halowell's  senses  as  a  pail  of  water 
steadies  a  drunken  man.  Seeing  Dalton's  up- 
raised sword  and  the  girl's  attitude  (which,  to 
his  unsteady  vision,  seemed  one  of  defense),  he 
gave  a  roar  and  sprang  full  at  the  man's  throat. 

Taken  by  surprise  and  completely  unnerved 
by  his  sister's  presence,  Dalton  was  helpless  to 
this  new  assault.  Halowell  had  him  on  the 
floor  and  was  shaking  him  savagely  before  one 
of  the  ruffians  on  the  stairs  could  move  to  in- 


Murdered!  gasped   Joyce." — Page  188. 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         189 

terfere.  And  before  they  could  do  more  than 
move  the  tramp  of  a  horse  changed  the  tenor 
of  their  thoughts.  With  frightened  curses,  and 
while  Halowell  was  yet  beating  their  prostrate 
employer,  they  tumbled  down  the  stairs, 
crowded  into  the  kitchen-hall,  and  vanished 
precipitously. 

"  It's  the  watch !  "  cried  Joyce  hysterically. 
"  It's  the  watch,  Mr.  Halowell !  " 

But  Clayton  paid  not  the  slightest  heed  to  the 
cheering  news.  He  had  suddenly  ceased  his 
irrational  method  of  warfare  and  was  bending 
over  his  prisoner  in  such  a  way  as  to  hide  the 
man's  face. 

"  Mistress  Dalton,  go  up  stairs,"  he  com- 
manded, without  looking  around.  "  Go  up 
stairs  and  shut  yourself  in  your  room." 

"  May  I  not—" 

"  Please  go." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  the  re- 
quest that  commanded  obedience.  When, 
however,  the  girl  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
feminine  curiosity  prompted  her  to  look  back. 
She  saw  Halowell  pull  his  opponent  to  his  feet, 


190  Clayton  Halowell 

fasten  the  beard  which  had  become  unhooked 
from  the  man's  mask,  and  half  lead,  half  shove 
the  fellow  through  the  door  to  the  back  stairs. 
An  instant  later  Winslow  appeared,  his  face 
expressive  of  the  most  intense  amazement. 

"  Turn  to  the  left  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
and  run — run"  were  the  directions  Clayton 
hissed  into  an  almost  deaf  ear,  when  his  sub- 
ordinate had  reluctantly  obeyed  his  command 
and  left  him  alone  with  his  captive.  "  For 
God's  sake  keep  clear  of  the  patrol." 

"  Here's  his  sword,"  was  Winslow's  greet- 
ing when  he  returned  to  the  front  landing. 
"  It's  regulation  size  and  finish.  I  wonder — " 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  said  Halowell  and  snatched 
the  weapon  roughly  and  flung  it  behind  the 
door  just  as  the  lieutenant  of  the  watch 
stamped  into  the  hall.  When  the  officer  was 
gone  he  took  the  blade  from  its  hiding  place 
and  slipped  it  into  his  boot. 

On  the  homeward  road  the  little  party  was 
very  quiet.  Joyce  was  still  too  shaken  to  be 
loquacious;  Winslow  was  deriving  huge  de- 
light in  re-fighting  the  brawl;  and  Halowell 


Winslow  Proves  His  Mettle         191 

was  trying  (and  succeeding  ill)  to  forget  the 
picture  of  a  wavering  underlip  and  two  hopeless 
eyes. 

The  lights  of  the  camp  were  within  sight 
when  he  broke  the  silence.  "  I  shall  ask  you 
both  to  regard  this  affair  as  secret,"  he  said, 
gravely.  "  Peters  will  not  speak  of  it  for  the 
reputation  of  his  house.  For  the  same  reason 
we  can  keep  silent." 

"  Then  it  was  someone  you  knew  ?  "  asked 
Joyce,  in  an  awestruck  voice. 

Halowell  nodded. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHEREIN    ARE     PROPOUNDED     SEVERAL    PERTI- 
NENT QUESTIONS 

THE  embroidery  lay  idle  and  Joyce's  face, 
framed  by  the  scarlet  and  green  of  the  gerani- 
ums, was  the  picture  of  contrition  and  sorrow. 
— "  George  was  up  waiting  for  me,  so  white 
and  worried;  and  this  morning  he  was  taken 
with  the  fever,  the  result  of  serious  mental 
strain,  Dr.  Knight  says.  And  now,  to  cap  all, 
His  Excellency  is  bent  on  disgracing  him.  I — 
I'm  afraid  he'll  never  get  well." 

Halowell  looked  up  quickly,  then  returned 
to  the  scrutiny  of  his  boot-tips. 

"  There's  no  disgrace  in  being  assigned  to 
the  line,"  he  said,  evenly,  "  when  there  prom- 
ises to  be  fighting." 

"  I'm  afraid  George  thinks  differently." 

The  visitor  made  no  reply  to  this  statement, 
and  Joyce  asked,  "  Does  your  shoulder  pain  ?  " 
solicitously. 

192 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded    193 

"  No,  thank  you."  Major  Halowell  wel- 
comed the  change  of  topic,  for  he  found  it  dif- 
ficult to  sympathize  in  Mr.  Dalton's  troubles. 
"  The  surgeons  kept  me  against  all  sense.  I 
gave  them  the  slip  as  soon  as  I  could.  You 
know  we  break  camp  soon." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  George  is  making  arrange- 
ments for  me  to  return  to  Philadelphia  with 
Mrs.  Arnold." 

"  Clinton  has  sworn  to  end  the  rebellion  be- 
fore fall."  Halowell  snarled  a  skein  of  silk 
which  he  picked  from  the  girl's  lap  with  his 
left  hand  (his  right  was  in  a  sling).  After 
what  had  happened  at  the  inn  he  felt  embold- 
ened to  ask  a  question,  but  was  experiencing  a 
vast  difficulty  in  selecting  words  suitable  to  the 
occasion.  "  He  has  been  heavily  reinforced 
too,  the  scouts  report,"  he  said,  aimlessly. 

"  Which  will  make  his  defeat  the  more  glori- 
ous." 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Why  such  a  solemn  word  ?  Is  the  '  scratch  ' 
deep,  or  are  you  planning  some  fearful  deed  ?  " 

"  Manv  of  us  will  have  to  match  these  new 


194  Clayton  Halowell 

troops    and    come    out    the    worse    for    the 
encounter." 

Whether  it  is  that  a  woman  possesses  a  bet- 
ter knowledge  of  the  signs  of  masculine  weak- 
ness than  is  usually  credited  to  her,  or  is  simply 
loth  to  lose  a  slave  in  the  less  romantic  ap- 
pendage of  a  fiance,  I  will  not  venture  to  say. 
But  certainly  the  average  woman  exhausts  all 
her  arts  in  an  effort  to  stave  off  a  man's  dec- 
laration of  love  (stave  off,  you  understand, 
not  crush).  Perhaps  the  cause  of  the  thing  is 
the  innate  gambling  instinct  which  is  bred  in 
us  all — though  even  for  that  hazard  I  will  not 
stand.  Joyce,  as  her  sisters  had  done  before 
her,  took  instant  alarm  at  something  in  her  vis- 
itor's manner  and  began  to  talk  fast  and  at  ran- 
dom; and  though  Halowell  struggled  heroi- 
cally to  steer  the  conversation  to  the  port  he 
wished  it  to  reach,  his  efforts  were  dishearten- 
ingly  unsuccessful.  Every  lead  which  could 
bring  the  episode  of  the  "  Two  Doves  "  upper- 
most was  straightway  blocked,  and  for  fully 
twenty  minutes  he  was  obliged  to  relate  the 
details  of  a  recent  trip  to  West  Point,  discuss 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded    195 

the  relative  beauties  of  green  and  pink  silk, 
listen  to  comments  on  the  effect  of  the  sun  upon 
the  river,  all  to  the  detriment  of  his  heart  ac- 
tion. At  length,  however,  Joyce  herself  gave 
him  the  opening  he  sought,  and  he  was  not  slow 
in  availing  himself  of  it. 

"  Have  you  taken  any  steps  toward  discover- 
ing the  men  who  attacked  you  the  other 
night?"  she  asked,  when  every  irrelevant  sub- 
ject her  mind  could  fasten  upon  had  been 
threshed  and  an  ominous  silence  had  settled 
upon  her  companion. 

Halo  well  gravely  completed  the  skein's  ruin 
before  answering.  He  saw  his  chance,  but  re- 
quired time  to  mass  his  courage  for  the  as- 
sault. When  finally  he  spoke,  it  was  extempo- 
raneously and  not  in  the  language  he  had  re- 
hearsed and  pondered  upon. 

"  I  have  not  tried  to  find  them  out,"  he  said 
softly,  "  for  they  did  me  a  service  I  can  never 
repay."  He  reached  out  and  laid  his  brown, 
sinewy  hand  upon  the  girl's  slender  one.  "  Will 
you  not  make  me  their  eternal  debtor,  Joyce, 
dearest?" 


196  Clayton  Halowell 

Down  went  the  work,  the  precious  work,  an 
unnoticed  heap  of  linen  and  silks.  The  girl  rose 
and  stood  facing  her  visitor,  one  hand  on  the 
window-sill,  the  other  on  her  heaving  breast. 

"  I — I  did  not  mean,"  Halowell  began  hur- 
riedly, and  rose  also,  his  cheeks  white  as  paper. 
"  I — I  did  not  mean — I  trust  you  will  pardon 
— But  I  had  hoped — " 

"  Clayton ! " 

A  pair  of  purple  eyes,  twin  stars  of  tender- 
ness, and  a  pair  of  scarlet  lips,  wreathed  half  in 
smiles,  were  glowing  up  at  Halowell.  The  next 
instant  the  eyes  were  hidden  and  the  lips  were 
kissing  and  being  kissed.  And  the  world,  for 
two  individuals,  had  narrowed  to  one  sunny, 
flower-bright  room  and  became  surpassingly 
lovely. 

"  Sweetheart,"  Halowell  whispered. 

Joyce  breathed  a  little  sigh  of  content  and 
nestled  closer.  "  Call  me  sweetheart  again ;  it 
sounds  so  beautiful.  I  can't  believe  you  mean 
it  for  me." 

"  It  has  been  your  name  to  me,  dearest,  since 
the  Sunday  you  received  a  good-for-nothing 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded    197 

Major  of  Infantry  who  had  only  a  letter  from 
George  to  recommend  him  to  your  grace." 

"  Only  a  letter  to  recommend  him?  Let  this 
be  the  answer  to  your  calumny,"  and  Joyce 
stood  on  tiptoe  and  kissed  Halowell,  and  was 
promptly  imprisoned  and  made  to  repay  the 
kiss  at  a  usurious  interest.  "  You  don't  know 
that  I  went  to  sleep  that  night  with  the  name 
of  the  good-for-nothing  Major  of  Infantry  on 
my  lips,  and  with  the  image  of  the  good-for- 
nothing  Major  of  Infantry  in  my  heart.  The 
image  stayed  and  stayed  in  my  heart,  Clayton, 
and  grew  until,  were  I  to  show  you  the  heart, 
you  would  imagine  yourself  before  a  mirror." 

A  pink  end  of  ear  was  all  that  was  visible  at 
the  end  of  the  confession.  To  Halowell  the 
morsel  of  flesh  embodied  all  that  was  worth 
life.  Had  ever  man  been  so  blessed!  Had 
ever  sun  been  brighter,  or  a  river  more  dimpled, 
or  slopes  of  foliage  more  sparkling? 

"  Had  we  not  better  tell  George  ? "  said 
Joyce  presently.  "  He'll  be  so  happy." 

Halowell  would  have  "  told  "  the  Shah  of 
Persia  had  the  starry-eyed  maid  before  him  so 


198  Clayton   Halowell 

commanded.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the  expan- 
sive geniality  with  which  his  happiness  had  en- 
dowed him,  the  moment  following  Joyce's 
opening  of  the  sick-chamber  door  was  one  of 
intense  awkwardness.  Dalton's  ghastly  face, 
curtained  with  sullen  defiance  to  hide  its  real 
fright,  was  anything  but  an  inviting  spec- 
tacle. Viewing  it,  Halowell  could  think  only 
of  an  unclaimed  sword  in  a  corner  of  his  hut, 
and  could  express  only  a  limited  sympathy  for 
the  invalid. 

Joyce  jumped  into  the  breach,  unconsciously 
of  course,  by  running  to  the  bed  and  burying 
her  head  in  an  end  of  the  pillow. 

"  George  dear,  Mr.  Hal — Clayton  has  some- 
thing to  tell  you."  An  emphasis  on  the  Chris- 
tian name  thrilled  one  of  her  hearers  and 
caused  the  other  to  steady  his  nether  lip  by  a 
perceptible  effort.  "  Tell  him,  Clayton." 

Thus  admonished  Clayton  laconically  told 
the  brother  that  he  had  asked  Joyce  to  be  his 
wife.  To  the  news  the  sick  man  offered  neither 
comment  nor  congratulation.  Instead,  he  asked 
Joyce  to  leave  him  with  Mr.  Halowell,  and 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded    199 

watched  the  girl  cross  the  room  and  close  the 
door  with  a  face  motionless  as  a  death-mask. 
But  in  spite  of  the  apparent  placidity,  a  turbu- 
lent exultation  raged  in  his  heart.  His  wildest 
dreams  had  not  anticipated  so  complete  an  im- 
munity from  the  effects  of  his  deed.  Here,  in 
one  stroke,  the  obstruction  to  Olive's  love  and 
the  faintest  danger  of  prosecution  for  attempted 
murder,  were  removed. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Halowell ;  and  his  voice  was 
sufficiently  grim  to  paint  Dalton's  cheek  with 
a  fleck  of  color.  "  What  have  you  to  say  ?  " 
"  The — the  engagement  has  my  sanction." 
Halowell  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  That 
lifts  a  weight  from  my  mind,  of  course.  But  if 
that  is  all  you  wanted  of  me,  why  could  not 
Joyce — See  here,  Dalton — ,"  he  stepped  nearer 
the  bed  and  glowered  down  at  the  sick  man. 
"  What  the  devil  does  the  business  mean  ?  I've 
tried  to  unravel  it  and,  I  confess,  failed  abso- 
lutely— unless  it  is  Madam  de  Laurent's  work. 
What  was  it  that  changed  you  overnight  into 
a  common  assassin?  Honor  isn't  much  in  my 
line,  but  I'll  be  shot  if  I  ever  did  such  a  thing 


2OO  Clayton  Halowell 

as  you  tried  on  me.  I've  killed  my  share  of  fel- 
low-mortals, and  probably  will  go  on  killing 
until  I've  met  my  master.  But  I've  always 
killed  in  fair,  open  fight,  not  by  this  paid  cut- 
throat business.  I'd  like  to  know  what  it  all 
means,  pink  me  if  I  wouldn't !  " 

Dalton  did  not  move. 

"  We  have  always  been  friends,"  Halowell 
continued.  "  I  haven't  been  a  particularly  good 
man  myself  and  there  are  a  great  many  things 
in  my  life  I  shall  try  to  live  down  after  my  mar- 
riage. This  '  Two  Doves  '  episode  shall  be  the 
foremost  if  you  wish.  And  if  it  was  Madam 
de  Laurent  who  set  you  at  me — just  one  word 
to  cure  you  of  your  madness." 

"  Are  you  a  fit  person  to  malign  her?  "  asked 
Dalton  gloomily. 

"  So  it  was  she."  Halowell  gave  a  laugh 
that  was  far  from  mirthful.  "  I  thought  as 
much.  It's  wonderful  what  a  woman  can  do 
with  a  man;  there  isn't  a  passion  from  love  to 
hate  she  can't  conjure  at  will.  I  never  knew 
you  were — that  is,  I  never  knew  I  was  your 
rival."  (Dalton's  hand  clutched  at  the  cover- 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded   201 

let,  but  his  face  remained  impassive. )  "  But 
I'm  not  a  fit  person  to  malign  her.  Yet  warn 
you  I  can  and  will.  She's  nothing  less  than 
one  of  Clinton's  spies.  I  had  intended  keeping 
the  matter  secret  until  my  proof  was  strong 
enough  to  frighten  her  out  of  the  country; 
but  she's  too  dangerous  to  be  dealt  with  single- 
handed." 

Dalton's  face  was  convulsed,  and  beads  of 
moisture  glistened  on  his  forehead.  "  A — a 
spy!  What  do  you  intend  to  do?"  he  mut- 
tered, hoarsely. 

"  I  scarcely  know.  Her  position  is  so  as- 
sured that  I  shall  need  strong  proof  to  convince 
her  that  flight  only  will  keep  the  Provost 
away." 

"  Have  you — "  The  sick  man  endeavored 
frantically  to  suppress  the  apprehension  in  his 
voice,  and  succeeded  in  his  effort  only  because 
of  Halowell's  lack  of  suspicion  as  to  the  true 
relation  existing  between  Olive  and  his  pro- 
spective brother-in-law.  "  Have  you  any 
proof?" 

"  Not  an  atom  that  will  convict.    I  shall  re- 


202  Clayton  Halowell 

port  what  I  know  and  saw,  and  then  wash  my 
hands  of  the  affair.  I'm  not  so  enamored  of 
spying  that  the  loss  of  it  will  grieve  me." 

"  Can  you  not — is  it  absolutely  necessary  to 
make  this  report  ?  "  faltered  Dalton,  a  world  of 
suffering  in  his  hollow  voice  and  livid  face. 
"  Think  what  she  is,  and  what  her  death  would 
be  if — if  this  slander  proved  to  be  true.  You 
wouldn't  give  her  to  the  hangman,  would 
you?" 

"  I'm  not  considering  myself  now.  Olive  has 
had  time  to  save  herself  and  has  seen  fit  to 
brazen  it  out.  What  reason  have  I  for  think- 
ing she  will  cease  destroying  American  lives 
if  I  continue  to  be  false  to  my  oath?  "  And  in 
spite  of  the  sick  man's  feverish  pleading  Halo- 
well  was  adamant  in  his  resolution. 

"  Then  at  least  wait  until  I  am  about,"  Dal- 
ton cried  desperately.  "  Call  it  the  whim  of  a 
sick  man,  the  torture  of  a  lover — anything  you 
please ;  only  promise !  " 

"  You  can  do  no  good,  Dalton,"  Halowell 
replied,  with  a  gentleness  that  surprised  even 
himself.  "You  may  only  tangle  yourself  in 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded   203 

the  thing.  An  affair  of  this  sort  sticks  like  pitch 
if  you  touch  it.  And  cut  your  acquaintance 
with  Borden,  I  should  advise;  he's  as  deep,  if 
not  deeper,  in  the  business  than  Olive.  Let  me 
finish  the  whole  matter  before  you  are  up." 

"Man,  man!"  Dalton  almost  shrieked. 
"  You  love ;  remember  that  love  and  respect 
mine !  "  His  cheeks  were  gray  and  his  eyes  so 
wild  that  for  an  instant  his  companion  expected 
to  be  alone  with  a  corpse.  And  more  to  avert 
such  a  catastrophe  and  calm  the  dangerously 
excited  man  than  from  any  sense  of  right  or 
pity,  he  promised.  His  words  acted  like  a 
soothing  draught  and  the  invalid  became  more 
rational ;  and  when  Joyce  returned,  she  found 
the  twain  discussing  the  weather,  to  all  outward 
appearances  calm. 

But  if  Halowell,  after  taking  leave  of  his 
sweetheart,  had  been  less  blind  to  all  but  the 
tender,  merry  face  smiling  at  him  from  the 
door-step,  he  would  have  seen  that  a  pair  of 
eyes  watched  him  from  an  upper  window.  Be- 
fore he  had  disappeared  the  eyes  had  vanished 
and  Dalton  was  struggling  into  his  clothes. 


204  Clayton  Halowell 

Joyce,  pondering  her  happiness  in  the  hall,  was 
horrified  to  see  her  brother  stagger  down  the 
stairs  and,  in  spite  of  her  tearful  remonstrances, 
ride  off.  Across  the  river  and  up  the  opposite 
slope  he  trotted,  sustained  in  the  journey  by  the 
force  of  his  love  and  his  fear. 

Madam  was  out,  taking  her  daily  ride.  The 
visitor  decided  to  wait  and  was  helped  into  the 
small  salon  where,  sick  and  dizzy,  he  counted 
the  seconds  for  the  next  thirty  minutes. 

Meanwhile,  the  object  of  his  solicitations  was 
having  a  passive  adventure.  She  had  dismissed 
her  court  at  the  Morris  Hotel  and  was  riding 
alone  when  Halowell  emerged  from  a  lane,  saw 
her,  and  made  a  movement  to  return  from 
whence  he  had  come.  Then,  apparently  recon- 
sidering his  determination  he  trotted  forward 
and  bowed. 

"  May  I  ride  with  you  ?  " 

"  If  I  am  not  too  formidable,"  Olive  re- 
plied. "  You  still  are  on  the  trail  of  mysteries, 
I  presume  ?  " 

"  I  was  until  an  hour  ago."  Madam's  brows 
raised  in  silent  question  at  the  use  of  the  past 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded  205 

tense.  "  Yes,  I  decided  to  cut  the  mystery — 
to  turn  it  over  to  the  Provost.  You  have  not 
appreciated  the  fact  that  I  was  burdening  my- 
self solely  for  your  good,  so — 

"  You  have  told  the  ingenuous  story  to 
Colonel  Richards."  Olive  finished,  nicking  a 
fly  from  her  crupper.  Halowell  did  not  think 
it  worth  while  to  correct  her  impression,  and 
commented  on  the  grandeur  of  the  colors  in 
the  clouds. 

"  Chut !  What  do  you  or  I  care  for  the 
color  of  the  clouds?  What  do  you  hope  to 
gain  by  lodging  this  information  ?  " 

"  Well,"  Clayton  pursed  up  his  lips  medi- 
tatively, "  a  colonelcy,  perhaps,  and  relief  from 
a  very  trying  position  certainly.  The  Provost 
is  the  man  who  properly  belongs  to  this  busi- 
ness; and  I  am  not  anxious  for  more  of  last 
week's  incidents.  Which  reminds  me  I  haven't 
thanked  you  for  the  evening's  entertainment 
you  so  thoughtfully  provided.  I  had  a  most 
enjoyable  time,  I  assure  you." 

"  You  are  speaking  in  riddles,"  said  Olive 
coldly. 


206  Clayton  Halowell 

"Oh  pardon.  I  was  wrong  to  refer  to  the 
matter.  To  change  the  subject,  I  am — " 

"  No,  I  wish  to  know — " 

" — to  be  congratulated — " 

"  — what  you  mean — " 

"  — upon  being  a  prospective  Benedict.  You 
are,"  lightly,  "  the  first  to  hear  the  news." 

In  an  instant  Olive's  desire  for  knowledge 
had  flown.  She  shrank  as  if  struck  by  her  com- 
panion's fist,  and  every  particle  of  color  left  her 
cheeks.  The  gathering  darkness  veiled  a  light 
which  sprang  into  her  eyes.  To  further  conceal 
the  light  she  discovered  that  her  stirrup  was 
short  and  stooped  over  the  buckle.  When  finally 
she  looked  up,  her  lips,  though  yet  livid,  were 
steady,  and  her  erstwhile  disloyal  orbs  inscruta- 
bly calm. 

"Joyce  Dalton,  I  presume,"  she  said,  and 
cantered  for  a  yard  or  so,  looking  straight 
ahead.  "  Of  course  you  realize  that  this  pleas- 
ant arrangement  exists  only  by  my  suffrage? 
Your  fiancee  probably  has  all  a  school-girl's 
notions  of  what  a  lover  should  be." 

"  I  have  not  been  able  yet,  but  I  intend  to  tell 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded   207 

Joyce  some  day  that  I  haven't  been  a  good 
man,"  said  Halowell  gravely.  "  She  is  more 
a  woman  than  you  give  her  credit,  Olive. — 
This  is  my  road,  good  night." 

He  was  off  down  the  shadowy  lane  that  led 
to  his  quarters  almost  before  his  parting  was 
uttered,  and  Olive  was  alone  with  the  bitterest 
pain  a  woman  has  to  bear: — though  to  judge 
by  the  return  of  the  unholy  fire  to  her  eyes, 
the  pain  of  her  jealousy  was  not  chastening  her 
thoughts.  Even  Dalton,  engrossed  as  he  was 
with  his  own  cares,  noticed  that  she  was  livid 
when  she  appeared  before  him. 

"  Well ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  he  bowed  over 
her  hand.  "  What  is  your  bad  news  ?  Out  with 
it!  I'm  in  a  good  mood  to  be  rid  of  you." 

The  visitor  straightened  as  if  a  hand  had 
suddenly  seized  his  collar.  Where  was  his  self- 
respect!  Why  did  he  endure  these  affronts 
from  this  woman  ?  But  as  he  had  asked  himself 
(and  Olive)  these  self-same  questions  number- 
less times  before,  he  did  not  attempt  their  solu- 
tion but  took  the  seat  Madam  imperiously  com- 
manded and  answered  her  question. 


208  Clayton  Halowell 

"  I  want  to  know  why  you  lied  to  me  about 
the  man  who  was  outside  your  window — " 

"  Because  I  wished !  " 

Dalton's  white  face  flushed  and  darkened. 
"  You  are  not  fair,"  he  said  bitterly.  "  I  have  a 
right  to  ask.  I  suppose  you  still  love  him !  " 

"  If  I  do,  you  are  willing  enough  to  accept 
the  scraps  that  are  left,"  was  the  fierce  retort. 
"  Am  I  never  to  have  a  moment's  peace  from 
your  spying  and  questioning  and  jealousy?  I 
am  sick  of  it  all — sick  of  it,  I  tell  you!  I  ride 
with  another  man — and  you  must  tag  after  like 
a  spaniel;  I  dance  with  another  man — and  you 
must  mope  in  a  corner ;  I  talk  to  another  man — 
and  you  must  whine  for  a  word  too.  I  am  sick 
of  it!" 

"  God  knows  I  am  sick  of  it  too !  "  Dalton 
panted.  "  I  am  sick  of  it  if  anyone  is,  for  I  was 
an  honorable  man  until  I  met  you;  and  now 
what  am  I  ?  " 

He  really  was  sick  and  not  strictly  responsi- 
ble for  his  words,  Olive  knew.  But  he  had 
had  these  attacks  of  mawkish,  feeble  sentimen- 
tality so  often!  And  her  patience  was  not  im- 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded   209 

pervious  to  all  things.  His  fever  acted  as  an 
antidote  to  her  own  passion  and  she  shrugged 
her  shoulders  and  walked  to  the  door. 

"  If  you  cannot  talk  with  even  ordinary  sense, 
my  dear  George,"  she  said  icily,  "  I  shall  say 
adieu." 

"  You — you  try  me  so,"  whispered  Dalton. 
Then,  in  a  firmer  voice,  "  I  have  come  to  warn 
you  that  Halowell  intends  to  place  his  informa- 
tion in  the  hands  of  the  Provost." 

Madam  closed  the  door  and  crossed  to  her 
companion,  who  was  leaning  on  a  tatie,  very 
miserable  and  shaken.  "  Do  you  remember 
once  I  told  you  that  the  man  who  listened  at 
my  window  that  night  knew  nothing  I  could 
not  deny  ?  Well,  I  tell  you  now,  I  lied !  Do  you 
hear.  I  lied!  He  knows  everything — who  you 
are — how  you  copy  the  despatches  for  us — even 
how  they  are  passed  through  the  lines.  He — 
Why  don't  you  do  something !  "  she  cried,  in- 
terrupting her  own  stream  of  fierce  words  to 
turn  passionately  upon  the  livid  man  at  her 
side.  "  Why  don't  you  suggest  a  way  to  kill 
him!  Must  I  plan  even  this — man's  work!  " 


2io  Clayton  Halowell 

Dalton  wet  his  lips  and  stared  at  his  compan- 
ion's convulsed  face.  There  was  no  trace  of 
love  there  now ;  only  hate  and  tigerish  ferocity. 

"  He — he  swore  he — had — no  proof,"  he 
gasped,  after  his  lips  had  opened  thrice  and 
emitted  no  sound.  "  And  now — and  now  Joyce 
and  he — " 

"  You  would  have  for  your  brother  the  man 
who  knows  every  detail  of  your  dishonor !  To 
have  him  breathe  it  into  his  wife's  ear;  to  have 
him  fling  it  into  your  face;  to  have  him  tell  it 
to  his  children ;  to  live  with  the  sword  of  his  tol- 
eration forever  at  your  throat !  That  will  be  a 
pleasant  existence,  a  fine  relationship,  truly !  " 
Olive  choked  and  her  companion  sat  down 
heavily,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  He's  steel-proof,"  he  gasped.  "  I  tried  at 
the  *  Two  Doves  '— " 

"  And  failed !  "  screamed  Olive.  "  Fool !  " 
She  struck  the  man  with  her  clenched  fist,  blow 
upon  blow,  the  fires  of  Hell  flaming  from  her 
passion-lit  eyes.  "Fool!  Coward!  Baby!  To 
have  him  at  your  point  and  miss!  Pah!  "  She 
turned  away  and  stamped  feverishly  to  and 


Pertinent  Questions  are  Propounded   in 

fro,  pressing  her  hands  to  her  breast  as  if  to 
crush  the  wild,  turbulent  pain  which  raged 
therein.  "  When  does  his  turn  for  picket  in- 
spection come?" 

Dalton  understood  and  rose  unsteadily.  "  I'll 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  he  whispered. 
"  The  man  my  sister  loves !  I  tell  you  I'll  have 
nothing — " 

"  This  is  a  most  convenient  time  to  think  of 
your  sister.  Did  she  not  love  the  man  a 
week  ago? — Well,  since  you're  afraid,  I'll 
play  the  hand  without  you.  At  least  I  shall 
count  on  your  silence  ?  " 

The  thinly  veiled  menace  conveyed  in  the  last 
words  sent  a  flush  into  the  Major's  cheeks. 
"  I — "  he  began  hoarsely,  then  gulped  and  said, 
"  Do  what  you  like.  But  I'll  not  help"  And 
with  that  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHEREIN  MADAM  PLANS 

AN  army  packing  is  as  bewildering,  from 
a  spectacular  point  of  view,  as  an  army  on  the 
march.  This  general  rule  was  applicable  to  the 
Continental  camp  in  1781.  Baggage  wagons, 
clumsy,  covered  affairs,  groaned  beneath  the 
unthought-of  quantities  of  litter  necessary  to 
the  prosecution  of  the  Kingly  game  of  war. 
Orderlies  and  staff-officers  overran  the  country- 
side on  muddy  horses,  and  pointed  their  re- 
marks with  many  forcible  exclamations.  Over- 
worked commissaries  strove  vainly  to  explain 
to  zealous,  but  painfully  ignorant  militia  cap- 
tains, that  requisition-blanks  were  distributed 
for  the  purpose  of  feeding  companies  and  not 
for  the  drawing  of  diagrams  descriptive  of  the 
simplest  way  by  which  the  enemy  could  be 
crushed.  Quartermaster-sergeants,  worried  and 


Madam  Plans  213 

ugly,  swore  thirty  to  the  second  over  accounts 
which  would  not  balance.  Farriers  and  artifi- 
cers clinked  at  their  forges  from  dawn  to  dark- 
ness and  seemed  to  make  no  headway  with  their 
eternal  tasks.  General  officers  rode  to,  and  de- 
parted from,  the  busy  house  on  the  Newark 
Pike,  and  the  parade-ground  and  fields  adjacent 
thereto  were  constantly  black  with  shabby  es- 
corts and  staffs.  Consignments  of  horses  and 
bullocks,  in  charge  of  bronzed,  dirty,  unkempt 
devils  whose  only  visible  soldierly  quality  was 
their  seat,  were  shuffled  into  town  and  delivered 
to  their  various  consignees.  In  the  cantonments 
men  repaired  frayed  saddles  and  burnished 
rusty  muskets.  All  was  turmoil  and  confusion 
and  gladness — for  the  army  was  about  to 
move. 

While  these  preparations  were  at  their  height 
gloomy  news  arrived  from  the  south.  General 
Lincoln  had  been  forced  to  shut  himself  into 
Charleston;  General  Clinton  was  investing  the 
town;  and  Colonel  Tarleton  was  marauding 
the  Carolinas  with  his  usual  thoroughness  and 
an  evident  intention  of  stamping  the  flame  of 


214  Clayton  Halowell 

sedition  once  and  for  all  from  the  Southern 
States.  And  so  well  was  Tarleton  accomplish- 
ing his  object  that  the  meanest  drummer  or 
camp-follower  realized  that  unless  succor  was 
given  the  south  would  be  rent  from  the  con- 
federation. In  view  of  these  facts  no  one  was 
surprised  when  the  Maryland  and  Delaware 
line,  and  the  First  regiment  of  artillery  were 
brigaded  under  command  of  Baron  de  Kalb. 
And  when  the  public  orders  were  issued  placing 
the  destination  of  the  troops  beyond  conjecture, 
a  great  whoop  of  joy  from  the  fortunates,  and 
a  correspondingly  doleful  cry  from  the  unfortu- 
nate stay-at-homes,  swelled  above  the  general 
din  of  preparation. 

The  night  set  for  Lady  Washington's  ball, 
the  thirteenth,  proved  to  be  the  one  previous 
to  the  relief-column's  departure.  As  much 
from  compliment  to  the  distinguished  host  and 
hostess  as  a  desire  to  fitly  end  the  many  asso- 
ciations incident  upon  the  army's  long  inactiv- 
ity, the  attendance  at  the  ball  was  universal — if, 
besides  the  guests,  be  counted  the  throngs  of 
countrymen  and  idle  soldiers  crowding  every 


Madam  Plans  215 

available  point  of  vantage  near  and  approaching 
Headquarters,  craning  at  the  passing  carriages 
and  cheering  their  favorites. 

Of  the  guests,  blue  and  buff  Americans, 
white  and  gold  Frenchmen,  weather-beaten 
privateer  Captains,  and,  here  and  there,  red  and 
white  Englishmen,  laughed  and  danced  and 
were  as  gaily  superficial  as  if  life,  and  the  mor- 
row, held  no  uncertainties  or  vexations.  Wash- 
ington himself  opened  the  dancing  with  Mrs. 
Knox,  M.  de  Lafayette  (lately  returned  from 
France)  walking  opposite  with  Lady  Washing- 
ton. In  the  same  set,  brilliant  and  beautiful, 
gowned  as  an  empress  and  homaged  as  such, 
was  Madam  de  Laurent.  Watching  Madam 
from  an  obscure  end  of  the  room,  no  longer  im- 
portant as  a  member  of  His  Excellency's  offi- 
cial family,  was  Mr.  Dalton.  Many  people 
piercing  the  forced  calm  of  the  man's  manner 
did  not  doubt  that  his  disgrace  was  the  cause 
of  his  desolation;  and  even  while  they  con- 
demned the  gross  carelessness  by  which  he  him- 
self had  encompassed  his  downfall,  they  pitied 
his  misery. 


2i  6  Clayton  Halowell 

The  orchestra  was  tuning  for  the  second 
minuet  when  Major  Halowell  banished  tearful 
disappointment  from  a  pair  of  violet  eyes  by 
rapping  on  the  door  of  a  house  in  a  shady  lane 
not  two  musket  shots  distant  from  the  scene 
of  the  festivities. 

"  I  was  preparing  for  a  nice  cry,"  said  the 
powdered,  furbelowed  little  vision  that  opened 
the  door  and  flew  into  his  arms,  regardless  of 
damaging  results  to  lace  frill  and  pleated  over- 
skirt.  "  What  has  kept  you  from  me,  Clayton, 
thou  fallen  man?  George  left  an  hour  ago" 

"  Nay,  dear  heart,"  said  Halowell,  smooth- 
ing back  a  wandering  tress  and  smiling  down 
into  the  shining  eyes  which  smiled  lovingly 
up  at  him,  "  I  should  be  called  not  '  fallen '  but 
'  foolish.'  Since  eight  o'clock  I  have  ridden 
nearly  to  Whippany  and  back." 

"And  why,  pray?" 

"  To  carry  the  dying  message  of  a  friend — 
one  Richard  Winslow — No,  no,  dearest!  It 
was  only  a  hoax.  Ten  minutes  ago  I  left  this 
same  Richard  riding  to  quarters  to  make  him- 
self presentable  for  Madam  Washington  and 


Madam  Plans 


217 


the  Carlyle  girls.  But  if  he  had  not  tired  of 
waiting  for  me  at  the  Thirteen  States  at  Whip- 
pany — well,  with  all  conviction  I  say  it,  I  should 
not  have  been  here  now,  and  my  little  pink 
fairy,"  drawing  the  girl  closer,  kissing  her  fore- 
head lightly,  "  would  have  been  obliged  to  look 
for  another  cavalier." 

Joyce  paled  and  threw  her  arm  around  Clay- 
ton's neck  as  if  to  protect  him  from  the  world. 
"  Another — another  trap  ?  "  she  gasped. 

Her  companion  laughed.  "  Ay,  another;  the 
third.  They've  tried  ambuscade,  single-marks- 
man, and,  now,  this  last,  which  was  designed 
to  give  cold  steel  a  chance,  probably.  That 
picket-inspection  episode  was  the  closest.  But 
thank  Heaven,  it  will  end  to-morrow,  for  a 
time  at  least." 

"  Then  you  are  really  going  with  Lord  Stir- 
ling? "  Joyce's  fears  for  past  perils  were  over- 
shadowed by  apprehensions  for  those  of  the 
future.  "  Must  you  go,  dear?  " 

"  If  I  do  not,  how  shall  I  bring  honor  to  a 
certain  maid  whom  I  know  and  love  ?  " 

"  But  the  maid  does  not  want  honor — she 


2i8  Clayton  Halowell 

wants  you;  and  she  especially  wants  you  to 
keep  far,  far  from  danger." 

"  Which  is  a  desire  I  treat  thus."  Clayton 
seized  the  cloak  which  was  lying  ready  for  use 
on  the  hall  table,  wrapped  the  girl  in  it,  and, 
whisking  her  in  his  arms,  carried  her  down  the 
yard  to  the  coach,  much  to  the  scandal  of  the 
colored  coachman.  "  Now,"  he  continued, 
when  she  had  retired  to  her  corner,  shaking  her 
fan  at  him  and  declaring  that  he  had  ruined  her 
gown,  "  Now  Madam,  make  another  such  re- 
quest and  I'll  carry  you  straight  to  His  Excel- 
lency and  beg  him  to  pillory  you  for  attempted 
treason." 


If  Madam  de  Laurent  were  the  acknowl- 
edged belle  of  the  ball  her  enjoyment  was  not 
in  proportion  to  the  exalted  position.  The  an- 
nouncement, "  Major  Halowell  and  Mistress 
Jocelyne  Dalton  "  and  the  sight  of  Clayton, 
careless  and  handsome,  and  Joyce,  radiant  and 
laughing,  discorded  the  music  for  her.  Her 
smile  froze  suddenly  and  a  giddiness  wiped  the 


Madam  Plans  219 

rich  carnation  from  her  cheeks  and  lips.  Be- 
fore the  newcomers  had  advanced  beyond  the 
threshold  she  had  made  a  rather  incoherent  re- 
quest of  her  partner  to  take  her  to  the  garden. 
On  her  way  up  the  room  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Dalton's  face,  convulsed  and  sweating,  and 
was  not  pleased  at  the  sight. 

In  the  cool,  whispering  silence,  and  the  soft 
lantern-light  of  the  garden,  her  dismay  rapidly, 
crystallized  to  fury.  While  Hamilton,  her  com- 
panion, talked  of  the  beauty  of  the  evening  and 
the  success  of  the  entertainment,  she  tried 
fiercely  to  efface  certain  memories  and  arrange 
her  thoughts.  Borden  had  failed  again !  Truly, 
as  George  had  said,  the  man  was  steel-proof. 
But  he  should  pay  for  his  crimes  to  her;  there 
were  other  things  in  the  world  than  steel  and 
powder!  Hamilton  never  connected  the  sud- 
den tightening  of  the  fingers  on  his  arm  with 
the  desperate  clutch  of  a  desperate  mortal.  He 
inquired  solicitously  if  he  should  return  for 
a  wrap  and,  upon  receiving  a  negative  reply,  re- 
turned to  his  gallantries  and  platitudes. 

"What  has  dried  the  Font  of  Wit?"  he 


220  Clayton  Halowell 

cried.  "  Faith !  I  shall  think  you  are  bemoan- 
ing my  departure  unless  you  quickly  disillusion- 
ize me." 

Olive  made  an  immense  effort.  "  Which 
thought  is  another  demonstration  of  the  con- 
ceit of  man,"  she  retorted,  with  a  laugh  which 
had  not  one  false  note  in  it. 

"  Since  you  are  so  unmerciful,  in  plain  lan- 
guage— of  what  were  you  thinking?  " 

"  If  I  were  to  tell  I  would  doubtless  be  ac- 
cused of  several  crimes  against  decorum." 

"Why?" 

"  The  subject  of  my  thoughts  was  a  man." 

"  And  that  man  not  I  ?  "  Hamilton  groaned 
tragically.  "  Who  is  the  lucky  mortal  occupy- 
ing the  thoughts  of  a  Queen  to  the  exclusion  of 
a  very  deserving  slave  ?  " 

"A  certain  Mr.  Halowell,"  laughed  Olive. 
Her  tone  was  so  light  that  none  other  than  a 
wizard  could  have  known  that  it  masked  a  well 
of  jealous  fury.  Like  a  boy  biting  on  a  sore 
tooth  to  make  the  pain  more  endurable,  she 
harrowed  her  soul  by  discussing  the  cause  of 
her  unhappiness.  "  I  was  thinking  how  won- 


Madam  Plans  221 

derfully  he  had  risen  in  two  years — from  a 
mere  trooper,  I  understand." 

"  With  reluctance  do  I  say  it,  he's  quite  a 
wonderful  man."  Knowing  the  story  of  Halo- 
well's  rescue  of  Madam  de  Laurent,  Hamilton 
thought  nothing  of  this  exhibition  of  interest, 
and  possibly  hoped,  by  dwelling  on  its  object, 
to  advance  his  own  aspirations.  "  His  Excel- 
lency takes  a  vast  interest  in  him  as  a  sort  of 
personal  discovery,  you  know.  He's  to  have  a 
chance  to  win  his  regiment  to-morrow." 

"  Indeed  ?  I  did  not  know  he  was  going  with 
De  Kalb." 

"  He's  not — he's  going  to  Staten  Island  with 
Stirling  on  ('tis  a  military  secret,  so  tremble) 
a  raid  to  cover  De  Kalb's  departure.  There! 
Observe  how  thoroughly  I  trust  you;  what  I 
have  told  isn't  known  to  a  dozen  persons  in 
the  world.  Surely  that  should  weigh  in  favor 
of  my  devotion." 

"  The  weight  overwhelms  me,"  retorted 
Madam.  "  I  vow,  the  honor  of  being  the  con- 
fidante of  a  staff-officer  (even  though  the  staff- 
officer  be  extremely  imprudent)  overwhelms 


222  Clayton  Halowell 

me! — You  think  then,"  returning  persistently 
to  her  original  subject,  "  that  Mr.  Halowell  is 
destined  to  rise  in  his  profession?  " 

"  It  would  be  looking  too  far  into  the  future 
to  make  that  statement.  Musket-balls  and  fever 
have  a  perverse  way  of  fastening  upon  the 
strongest." 

"  But  with  reasonable  hope?  " 

"  With  reasonable  good-fortune,  yes.  The 
fellow  is  a  devil  in  a  scrimmage,  and  his  men 
would  follow  him  to — the  place  where  brim- 
stone and  fire  are  commonly  supposed  to 
abound.  Now  I  swear  I  shall  call  the  Major 
out  if  you  inquire  about  him  further !  " 

"  Ah,  flatterer !  "  Madam  smiled  and  tapped 
the  arm  upon  which  she  rested.  "  Tis  not  a 
small  thing  for  a  woman  to  have  lived  a  winter 
in  camp  and  be  heart-whole  in  the  spring.  But 
I  have  done  so,  and  I'm  proof  against  your 
pretty  speeches."  And  if  gleaming,  trium- 
phant eyes  and  a  panting  breast  were  evidence 
of  her  words,  she  was  Truth  itself.  Returning 
presently  to  the  house,  she  left  her  escort  and 
walked  rapidly  to  the  deserted  card-room, 


Madam  Plans 


223 


where  Dalton,  searching  for  her  for  reasons 
best  known  to  himself,  presently  found  her 
scribbling  on  her  dance-card. 

"  News,  George,  news !  "  she  whispered,  in- 
terrupting his  salutations  by  thrusting  the  card 
into  his  hand.  "  What  we  can't  manage 
Knyphausen  will.  It  must  go  to  Borden  at 
once;  it's  important,  you  see." 

Dalton  read  the  "  Stirling  to  Staten  Island 
to-morrow,  via  the  Short  Hills,  probably,"  that 
was  written  on  the  paper,  and,  as  usual,  rebelled. 
"  I'll  not  do  it!  "  he  muttered,  and  made  a  mo- 
tion as  if  to  tear  the  note. 

Before  the  action  could  develop  Olive  had 
arrested  his  arm.  "  You  are  negligent  with 
your  manners,  George.  To  decline  a  request! 
"Tis  most  impolite,  I  must  say.  And — "  her 
voice  suddenly  lost  its  bantering  ring  and  grew 
hard.  "  And  you  will  take  this  to  Borden  or — 

Apparently  the  whispered  alternative  was 
forceful.  Dalton  did  not  wait  for  its  end ;  and, 
an  hour  later,  as  the  first  of  the  guests  were  tak- 
ing leave  of  their  host  and  hostess,  a  cipher 
despatch  was  on  its  way  to  Knyphausen  and 


224  Clayton  Halowell 

Dalton  was  gulping  neat  brandy  in  the  house 
of  Mr.  Henry  Borden. 

Not  so  many  hours  after  this  incident, 
and  notwithstanding  the  dissipation  of  the 
night,  staff-officers  were  flying  up  and 
down  the  Newark  Pike,  and  lines  of  men 
were  forming  in  one  of  the  fields  adjacent 
to  the  road.  Not  a  great  number  of  men 
were  there,  lolling  on  rusty  muskets  in  the  gray 
of  the  morning,  knee-deep  in  the  ground  mist 
and  but  half  awake.  But  when,  presently,  a 
General  cantered  up  to  them  and  the  various 
commanders  ordered,  "  Forward !  "  "  Stirling 
and  Staten  Island  "  was  cheered  lustily,  and  the 
march  was  begun. 

Not  a  score  of  people  marked  the  column's 
march  through  the  town  and  out  into  the  Eliza- 
beth Road.  The  earliness  of  the  hour  and  the 
fact  (as  Hamilton  had  told  Madam  de Laurent) 
that  not  a  dozen  individuals  were  aware  of  the 
intended  departure,  accounted  for  the  lack  of 
spectators.  Yet  of  the  score  who  noted  the 
lines  of  marching  men, one  at  least  wasnot  pres- 
ent casually.  When  the  ragged  rear-guard 


Madam  Plans  225 

had  vanished  into  the  gloom  this  man  emerged 
from  the  thicket  that  had  concealed  him,  and 
galloped  away  as  if  the  Furies  were  at  his  heels. 
Down  into  the  valley,  across  the  river,  up  the 
opposite  slope,  and  so  to  Madam  de  Laurent's 
door  he  flew.  And  by  a  strange  coincidence 
Madam  was  dressed  and  pacing  the  chilly 
lengths  of  the  rosery. 

"  He's  not  there,  Olive !  He's  not  there !  " 
the  man  cried  desperately,  as  he  flung  himself 
from  his  horse  and  faced  the  woman. 

It  may  have  been  the  fatigue  occasioned  by 
the  lateness  of  her  retiring  and  the  earliness  of 
her  rising,  or  it  may  have  been  remorse  and  the 
gnawing  of  a  love  which  no  wounds  could  kill ; 
but,  whatever  the  cause,  Madam's  cheeks  were 
chalky  and  her  eyes  heavily  ringed  with  black. 
A  little  pulse  beat  in  her  cheek,  yet  other  than 
that  sign  of  repression  she  was  coldly  calm  as 
usual. 

"  Who  is  not  where?  "  she  said  curtly,  paus- 
ing in  her  walk  to  survey  the  agitated  messen- 
ger. "  Be  coherent,  please." 

"  Halowell  was  not  with  Stirling." 


226  Clayton  Halowell 

A  tinge  of  red  crept  into,  and  then  faded 
from  the  woman's  cheeks.  "  Are  you  sure?  " 
she  whispered,  almost  eagerly. 

"  I  watched  every  man.  God !  I  don't  know 
whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry !  " 

Before  Olive  could  comment  on  this  observa- 
tion, or  question  her  companion  more  closely 
upon  his  news,  a  stout  figure  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  path,  hurrying  toward  them.  Mad- 
am turned  from  Dalton  and  advanced  a  few 
paces  to  meet  the  newcomer,  whose  red  face 
was  shining  with  perspiration,  in  spite  of  the 
touch  of  March  in  the  air. 

"  So  you  know !  "  were  the  man's  first  words. 
His  piercing  eyes  belied  his  dull  mouth,  and  a 
sly  bravery  his  loose,  flabby  chin.  "  He's  scot 
free  again  and  likely  as  not  to  come  down  on 
us.  Pink  me!  if  I'll  ever  again  depart  from 
plain  cut  and  thrust." 

Madam,  to  all  outward  appearances  totally 
indifferent  to  Mr.  Borden's  perturbation,  stared 
at  a  withered  rose-leaf.  "  Do  you  know  why 
he  didn't  go?" 

"  Change  of  orders,  Powers  reports — a  con- 


Madam  Plans  227 

voy  up  West  Point  way  that  is  more  in  the 
Major's  line.  It's  wonderful,"  he  went  on, 
"  and  very  disquieting,  how  he  escapes  us  every 
time."  And  he  looked  hard  at  Madam.  "  I 
suppose  you  two  are  going  to  see  De  Kalb's 
phalanx  off?" 

Dalton  nodded.  Olive,  however,  did  not 
look  up,  so  Borden  continued." 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  with  the  well-wish- 
ers, hence  this  unfashionable  call."  He  opened 
his  coat  and  took  a  paper  from  his  pocket. 
"  Here  are  several  things  that  need  attention. 
Hendon  sends  word  that  to-morrow's  des- 
patches will  contain  the  key  to  Heath's  backing 
and  filling  in  the  Highlands  and  that  he  won't 
carry  them  as  usual.  General's  not  suspicious, 
he  says,  but  believes  in  caution  and  a  change  of 
expresses  now  and  then.  By  hook  or  crook  (or 
some  more  certain  expedient)  we  must  get 
those  despatches,  if  only  to  delay  the  movement. 
Then  Snyder  writes  that  Putnam  is  collecting 
supplies,  and  reconnoitering  north.  We  must 
find  out  if  he  means  to  threaten  New  York. 
The  programme  means  a  busy  week  for  all  and 


228  Clayton  Halowell 

a  journey  for  Madam.  You,"  addressing 
Olive,  "  can  start  for  Princeton  at  once,  I 
suppose  ? " 

Olive  nodded  and  said,  "  To-morrow  if  you 
wish,"  briefly. 

"And  you,  Dalton,  can  attend  to  the  ex- 
press ?  You  owe  it  to  us  for  bungling  yourself 
out  of  the  staff." 

"  Why  am  I  always  picked  out  for  the  dirty 
work !  "  muttered  Dalton.  "  You  or  Hendon 
can  do  it  as  well  as  I." 

To  have  told  Dalton  that,  since  he  had  no 
further  access  to  Headquarters'  secrets,  in  the 
event  of  a  catastrophe  he  could  be  more  readily 
spared  than  any  other  member  of  the  band, 
would  have  been  unwise ;  so  Borden  substituted 
a  plausible,  "  I  cannot  stir  after  dark  without 
risking  the  company  of  your  future  brother-in- 
law,"  for  the  truth.  "  And  Hendon,"  he  added, 
"  has  enough  to  do  at  Hanover.  Come !  "  as 
Dalton  turned  away,  irresolution  and  a  certain 
weak  obstinacy  struggling  in  his  eyes.  "  Will 
you  get  the  despatches.  Yes  or  no !  " 

Borden's  temper  was  inclined  to  be  choleric, 


Madam  Plans  229 

and  Olive,  who  had  been  aroused  from  her  in- 
difference to  all  but  the  rose-leaf  by  the  obvious 
importance  of  possessing  the  despatches, 
smoothed  the  sting  of  the  abrupt  question  by 
laying  her  hand  pleadingly  on  Dalton's  arm. 

"  We  need  you,  George.     Sir  Henry — 

"  Damn  Sir  Henry!  "  snapped  Dalton.  Then 
the  sight  of  the  beautiful  face  close  to  his  cheek 
destroyed  his  resistance.  "  Understand,"  he 
continued  querulously,  "  if  I  do  the  thing  it 
won't  be  for  Sir  Henry  or  the  whole  British 
roster!  " 

"  Then  you  will  do  it !  "  broke  in  Borden, 
only  to  relapse  into  watchful  silence  at  a  mute 
command  from  his  confederate's  sapphire  eyes. 

"  I  understand,  George,"  said  Madam  softly, 
and  slipped  her  hand  down  Dalton's  arm  until 
her  fingers  rested  upon  the  clenched  fist  half 
buried  in  the  wide  buff  cuff.  "  I  understand, 
George,  and  I  accept  the  service — and  all  it  en- 
tails. Now  let's  forget  politics,"  she  went  on, 
laughing  with  a  gaiety  in  which  her  heart  had 
no  part.  "  Both  you  unfashionable  gentlemen 
shall  breakfast  and  ride  to  the  review  with  me." 


230  Clayton  Halowell 

"  I'll  resign  in  favor  of  Mr.  Dalton,"  said 
Borden.  "  Instructions  for  you  both  will  ar- 
rive during  the  day.  Good-by." 

When  the  civilian's  bulky  form  had  vanished 
amid  the  tall  rose-trees,  Dalton  turned  and 
kissed  the  hand  that  rested  upon  his  wrist.  Ma- 
dam absently  tapped  his  bowed  head  with  a 
rose-stalk,  and  during  breakfast,  which  was 
served  in  the  boudoir-window  by  Yvette,  and 
brightened  by  the  streaming  sun  and  the  glori- 
ous view  of  the  valley,  was  gloomily  silent.  Even 
the  fresh  sweetness  of  the  May  morning,  the 
murmur  of  forest  and  river,  and  the  zest  with 
which  her  mare  enjoyed  the  canter  down  the 
valley  and  up  the  Newark  Pike  to  the  Head- 
quarter's  parade — even  these  varied  induce- 
ments did  not  liven  her  spirits  to  any  appreci- 
able extent. 

By  some  complex,  paradoxal  chain  of  ideas, 
the  sight  of  Halowell  and  Joyce  in  the  waiting 
throng  on  the  parade-ground  brought  the  rec- 
reant color  to  her  cheeks  and  the  animation  to 
her  eyes.  Even  as  she  greeted  the  half  score  of 
men  who  instantly  clustered  to  her  side,  she 


Madam  Plans 


231 


noticed  that  Halowell  wore  his  service  uniform; 
and,  like  Dalton,  she  was  not  certain  whether 
she  was  glad  or  sorry  because  of  his  intended 
departure. 

Olive  had  not  been  on  the  parade  a  minute 
before  Joyce  spied  her.  Only  Clayton's  per- 
suasion that  she  watch  the  ceremony  they  had 
come  to  view  prevented  her  from  yielding  to  the 
fascination  by  which  old  and  young,  man  and 
woman,  were  drawn  to  the  siren.  De  Kalb's 
lines  of  marching  men  scarcely  held  her  atten- 
tion, however,  and  Halowell  wondered  savagely 
how  much  further  she  would  be  subjugated, 
and  what  the  object  of  the  subjugation  was.  Be- 
fore he  could  satisfy  himself  on  either  problem, 
fife  and  drum  began  to  screech  the  ever-glorious 
"  Yankee  Doodle,"  simultaneous  with  which 
the  spectators  cheered  and  the  ragged  troops 
swung  out  upon  the  highroad  in  column  of 
fours. 

Halowell,  waving  an  envious  farewell  to  an 
acquaintance  in  the  Maryland  line,  was  recalled 
to  his  dilemma  by  a  tap  from  his  companion's 
whip. 


232  Clayton  Halowell 

"  Madam  de  Laurent  is  beckoning,"  she 
cried,  and  was  off,  a  pretty,  graceful  figure 
in  her  close-fitting  habit  and  her  radiant 
youth. 

Olive  was  in  the  gayest  of  spirits  now.  She 
bowed  sweetly  to  Halowell  and  kissed  Joyce 
with  a  warmth  that  set  that  impressionable 
young  lady  aglow  with  rapture. 

"The  other  day  Mr.  Halowell  asked  me  to 
congratulate  him,"  Madam  said.  "  Instead  of 
wishing  you  happiness  I  should  frighten  you  by 
unearthing  the  Green  Monster.  I  counted  the 
Major  my  most  attentive  cavalier  before  your 
advent,  witch." 

"  I'm  sure,"  Joyce  laughed,  "  that  you  can 
spare  one  from  an  army." 

"  A  woman  can  never  spare  an  admirer.  As 
well  encourage  gray  locks  and  wrinkles.  But 
xve  learn  to  be  surprised  at  nothing  the  fickle 
lords  of  creation  will  not  do.  Is  that  not  the 
word,  Mr.  Hamilton — fickle?  " 

"You  are  much  too  hard  on  the  sex, 
Madam." 

"  By  showing  them  the  error  of  their  ways  ? 


Madam  Plans  233 

Fie!  What  do  you  say  to  this  weighty  matter, 
Mr.  Halowell?" 

The  question  broke  rudely  upon  Clayton's 
thoughts.  He  had  halted  outside  the  circle  of 
gentlemen  which  surrounded  Olive,  and  was  in- 
voluntarily comparing  her  to  Joyce.  Both  rep- 
resented types  of  beauty,  but  each  was  as  dis- 
similar as  the  sun  and  the  moon.  Madam's 
was  the  style  he  had  always  admired  until  an 
inexplicable  process  had  caused  his  tastes  to 
veer  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  too  biased  to  hazard  an  opin- 
ion," he  confessed.  And,  the  field  being  bare  of 
troops,  he  asked  Joyce  if  she  would  like  to  spend 
the  two  hours  before  his  departure  watching 
General  Knox's  artillerymen  at  practice. 

"  Lovers  are  traditionally  insane,"  Madam 
observed  tranquilly,  gazing  after  the  twain  as 
they  cantered  side  by  side  down  the  green  bor- 
dered road.  "  Gentlemen,  you  are  dismissed 
for  the  day — all  except  Mr.  Dalton.  Mr.  Dai- 
ton,  I  desire  your  attendance." 

For  a  time  Olive  and  the  officer  designated  in 
the  mandate  rode  in  silence,  the  woman  staring 


234  Clayton  Halowell 

with  unheeding  eyes  at  the  sunny  landscape 
which  rolled  and  glistened  on  every  side,  the 
man  staring  at  the  woman's  wondrous  beauty 
and  reveling  in  the  fascination  of  her  compan- 
ionship. Then,  "  You'll  not  fail  to-morrow !  " 
Olive  said  abruptly. 

The  look  of  helpless,  abject  adoration  by 
which  the  question  was  answered  set  at  rest  any 
doubts  Madam  may  have  entertained  as  to  her 
companion's  loyalty  to  her  cause.  And  when, 
the  following  afternoon,  she  embarked  for 
Princeton  in  her  green  coach  (with  Yvette  and 
a  poodle  for  company,  and  General  Washing- 
ton's personal  pass,  and  three  blue  and  silver 
out-riders,  for  protection),  she  forgot  her  ani- 
mosity for  Major  Halowell  in  a  reasonable  cer- 
tainty that  the  Heath  dispatches  would  never 
reach  Heath  until  their  contents  had  been  made 
known  to  the  authorities  in  New  York. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WHEREIN    HALOWELL    TAKES    HIS    REVENGE 

CLAYTON  was  at  West  Point  when  vague 
rumors  of  tragedy  and  treachery  spread 
through  the  garrison.  First  he  heard  that  His 
Excellency  had  been  murdered;  then  that  Put- 
nam had  deserted  and  carried  to  the  enemy 
every  scrap  of  information  relating  to  the  com- 
ing campaign;  then  that  a  cavalry  raid  had 
caught  the  camp  and  massacred  hundreds. 
Skeptical,  perplexed  and  anxious  he,  when 
ordered  back  to  Morristown,  nearly  killed  his 
mount  in  his  desire  to  learn  what  state  of 
affairs  had  given  rise  to  the  wild  gossip. 
At  the  first  picket  he  discovered  that,  while 
each  version  had  been  enlarged  and  garbled 
with  each  telling,  in  the  main  they  were  in- 
spired by  facts.  By  the  time  he  reached 
the  "  Goat,"  the  first  statements  had  sim- 
mered down  to  the  shooting  of  the  weekly 
235 


236  Clayton  Halo  well 

express  to  General  Heath  and  the  rifling  of  the 
fellow's  dispatch-box  (the  very  boldness  of  the 
deed  having  assured  its  success  and  the  immun- 
ity of  the  perpetrator).  The  cavalry-raid  fic- 
tion was  caused  by  nothing  less  than  the  return 
of  a  bruised,  bloody,  dusty,  savage  mob  under 
Stirling,  whose  complete  annihilation  in  a  sur- 
prise at  the  Short  Hills  had  been  averted  only 
by  a  never-failing  caution.  As  it  was,  Simcoe 
had  hung  to  the  broken  flanks  of  his  victims, 
harrying  and  snapping  like  the  bull-dog  he  was, 
until  the  smoke  of  the  Continental  picket-fires 
had  scared  him  off.  In  the  army's  (not  the 
staff's)  mind,  the  latter  disaster  overshadowed 
the  express'  murder,  and  the  grumbling  of  the 
men's  anger  rose  above  the  hum  and  bustle  of 
their  preparations  for  departure.  Men  shook 
their  heads  gloomily  over  their  ale,  and  com- 
mented on  the  strange  fatality  which  had  over- 
taken nearly  all  the  winter's  raids.  And  each 
looked  askance  at  his  neighbor  and  was  restless 
under  the  certainty  that  some  trust  was  being 
betrayed. 

When  Halowell  broke  from  the  ring  of  eager 


Halowell  Takes  His  Revenge      237 

newsmongers  who  had  hailed  with  delight  his 
eagerness  for  information,  every  detail  of  both 
disasters  had  been  crammed  into  his  brain.  His 
lips  wore  a  peculiarly  hard  smile.  Linking  the 
outrages  with  his  knowledge,  he  felt  like  a  mur- 
derer himself.  But  he  would  purge  his  con- 
science! An  uncontrollable  antipathy  to  in- 
volve Olive  in  so  hideous  a  scandal,  even 
though  his  silence  daily  imperilled  the  army 
and  his  prospects,  and  even  though  the  time 
limit  set  by  Dalton  had  long  expired,  had  thus 
far  held  him  from  declaring  the  traitors.  The 
light  of  these  recent  events,  however,  placed 
duty  above  sentiment;  and  in  a  very  adaman- 
tine mood  indeed,  he  rode  into  town  and  drew 
rein  before  the  Provost's  office. 

As  bad  luck  would  have  it,  Colonel  Richards 
had  left  for  Mendham  and  was  not  expected  to 
return  before  the  following  morning.  Halowell 
could  not  tell  his  story  to  the  youthful  deputy 
who  gave  him  the  unwelcome  information.  The 
following  evening,  tired  as  he  was  with  a  long 
day  in  the  saddle,  he  once  more  prepared  to  un- 
burden his  soul.  And  once  again  did  Fate  re- 


238  Clayton  Halowell 

buff  him.  Richards  had  returned,  but  it  was 
lodge-night,  and  the  deputy  pointed  across  to 
the  gaily  lighted  windows  of  the  Morris  Hotel 
in  answer  to  the  Major's  query.  Halowell 
hesitated  to  intrude  upon  the  merrymakers; 
and,  having  hesitated,  he  decided  that,  inas- 
much as  he  had  held  his  secret  three  weeks,  his 
troublesome  and  distasteful  duty  could  be  dis- 
charged in  the  morning. 

As  he  crossed  the  green  after  having  come  to 
this  conclusion  his  horse  shied  violently  and 
called  attention  to  a  dark  figure  slipping  from 
tree  to  tree.  The  sight  was  sufficient  to  point 
the  suspicions  with  which  Halowell's  mind  was 
impregnated.  In  grim  silence  he  collared  and 
dragged  a  struggling  swearing  captive  to  a 
nearby  lamp,  and  turned  the  fellow's  face  to  the 
light. 

"  You'd  better  let  me  go,"  the  man  affirmed 
sullenly.  "  I'm  carrying  despatches  to  General 
Heath." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  about  it  like  an 
honest  man  ? "  Halowell,  however,  did  not 
loosen  his  grip.  "  Let  me  see  the  despatches. 


Halowcll  Takes  His  Revenge      239 

Hm!  They  seem  to  be  in  order.  To  what 
troop  do  you  belong?  " 

"  Capt'n  Bacon's — Pennsylvania  line." 

"  Well,  when  I  see  Captain  Bacon  I  shall  not 
fail  to  tell  him  that  his  courier's  manner  is  pecu- 
liar and  that  his  tongue  is  too  free.  Good- 
night." 

More  relieved  at  the  outcome  of  this  little 
adventure  than  he  cared  to  confess  Halowell, 
after  watching  the  messenger  slink  into  the 
darkness,  shook  his  bridle  and  started  once 
more  for  his  quarters.  The  road  lay  past  the 
busy,  lighted  Ford  House,  and  the  head  of 
Joyce's  lane.  Further  out  toward  Whippany  it 
skirted  lines  of  picketed  horses,  and  swathed 
guns,  and  the  deserted  huts  of  De  Kalb's  troops. 
Then  the  passing  of  more  huts  brought  the 
rider  to  the  edge  of  the  oak-surrounded  meadow 
which  was  his  destination. 

Here  he  left  the  road.  He  was  cantering 
over  the  rough  track  that  led  to  the  double 
row  of  huts  that  composed  the  cantonment, 
when  the  clink  of  a  sabre  sounded  from  a 
thicket  ahead  of  him.  Instinct  and  training  im- 


240  Clayton  Halowell 

mediately  fired  his  alarm.  In  a  twinkling  he 
had  reined  in  and  drawn  a  pistol.  Why  was  a 
body  of  horse  concealed  practically  in  the 
midst  of  camp?  Visions  of  the  fulfilment  of 
the  British  threat  against  the  liberty  of  His  Ex- 
cellency flashed  into  his  mind.  "  Patrol !  Pa- 
trol ! "  he  bawled,  galloping  toward  the  fringe 
of  scrub-oak  which  masked  the  suspicious 
sounds,  and  hoping  by  his  cries  to  attract  either 
the  watch  or  the  least  sleepy  members  of  his 
regiment.  "  Within  the  wood,  there !  " 

An  answer  to  the  challenge  came  in  the  shape 
of  a  horseman  and  a  lighted  lantern.  As  Halo- 
well  pulled  up  uncertainly  the  apparition  flashed 
the  light  into  his  face. 

"  Hello  Bacon— What  the  dev— " 

The  ejaculation  fell  upon  empty  air,  for  with- 
out a  word  the  lantern-bearer  vanished  again 
into  the  trees. 

"  I'll  be  hanged !  "  exclaimed  Halowell,  and 
slowly  shoved  his  pistol  back  into  its  holster. 
"  Queer  happenings,  horse.  Did  he  take  us  for 
highwaymen  or  spies  ?  " 

It  was  after  ten,  and,  the  stable-detail  having 


Halo  well  Takes  His  Revenge      241 

retired  to  the  seclusion  of  a  quiet  dicing,  Clay- 
ton was  his  own  hostler.  When  the  nag  had 
been  made  comfortable  he  sought  his  hut, 
pulled  off  his  boots,  lighted  a  pipe,  and  snuffing 
the  candle,  settled  back  on  his  stool  near  the 
door  to  ponder  the  strange  appearance  of  his 
colleague  and  the  annoying  mischances  which 
kept  him  still  partner  to  Olive's  crimes. 

The  silence,  except  for  the  gentle  confidences 
which  oaks  and  brook  exchanged,  was  absolute 
and,  after  the  bustle  and  turmoil  of  the  day,  was 
sweeter  than  the  rarest  melody.  Halowell  could 
enjoy  it  too,  for  he  was  at  peace  with  the  world. 
Spurred  by  the  witchery  of  the  hour,  Ambition 
and  Cupid  stole  his  senses.  Ambition  built  him 
gorgeous  palaces,  and  Cupid  led  therein  a  cer- 
tain brown-eyed,  roguish  girl.  Then  Ambition 
brought  money-bags  and  honors  and  piled  them 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  palace;  and  Cupid, 
not  to  be  outdone,  waved  his  bow — and  lo!  a 
toddling  child  appeared  upon  the  money-bags 
and  lisped  "  Father,"  in  baby-talk — 

And  then  the  gorgeous  palace,  the  brown- 
eyed  girl,  and  the  lisping  child  vanished  in  a 


242  Clayton  Halowell 

thunder  clap.  Halowell  would  have  sworn,  as 
he  opened  his  eyes,  that  the  child  screamed. 
He  looked  around  in  the  bewilderment  of  half- 
sleep,  still  rubbing  his  eyes,  when  a  second  pis- 
tol banged.  The  report  was  not  loud  enough 
to  have  come  from  Bacon's  troopers  concealed 
in  the  oaks ;  and  as  it  did  not  occur  again  Halo- 
well  concluded  it  was  from  some  restless  picket 
and  cursed  the  fellow  fervently.  This  relief  to 
his  feelings  had  scarcely  ended  when  a  third 
shot,  and,  close  upon  its  heels,  the  thud,  thud, 
of  a  galloping  horse,  startled  him  into  com- 
plete wakefulness.  He  was  on  his  feet,  peering 
into  the  darkness,  in  an  instant. 

Nothing  more  suspicious  than  the  vaguely- 
marked  highway  in  the  middle  distance,  and  the 
twinkling  of  the  picket-guard's  fires  far  beyond, 
repaid  his  survey.  Thoroughly  mystified,  he 
was  about  to  turn  away  when  a  shrill  "  Boots 
and  Saddles,"  and  the  creak  and  clash  of  a  body 
of  mounting  cavalry  rose  from  the  copse. 
Treading  on  the  heels  (as  it  were)  of  these 
sounds,  came  Bacon's  troopers  in  extended  or- 
der. Halowell  could  see  them  bouncing  to- 


Halowell  Takes  His  Revenge      243 

ward  the  highroad  like  two-score  animated 
blots.  They  trailed  away  eastward;  and  then 
silence  again. 

How  long  he  stood  in  the  doorway  staring 
after  the  vanished  troop,  Halowell  could  never 
tell.  Minutes  were  as  seconds  during  the  strain 
of  waiting — for  what  he  knew  not.  A  few 
sleepy  voices  called  from  hut  to  hut  to  know 
what  the  trouble  was.  This  languid  interest 
died  out  and  the  whole  meadow  lay  quiet  and 
star-lit  and,  to  the  watching  man,  deserted  save 
for  the  end  of  a  neighboring  cabin.  Clumps 
of  berry  bushes  and  knuckles  of  rock  spotted 
the  long,  basin-like  depression.  There  was  ab- 
solutely nothing  to  cause  alarm — 

Halowell  shrank  suddenly  and  crouched  in 
the  shadow  of  the  door.  His  eyes  became 
riveted  on  a  roll  of  the  meadow  directly  in  a 
line  with,  and  not  a  dozen  yards  from,  his  hut. 
A  man  was  crawling  swiftly  between  the 
bushes  at  that  point. 

It  came  to  Halowell  in  a  flash  that  the  man 
was  making  for  the  rough,  wooded  ground  be- 
yond the  huts;  and  before  the  thought  was 


244  Clayton  Halowell 

fairly  formed  he  was  taking  his  part  in  the  un- 
intelligible drama.  The  crawling  man  heard 
him  dashing  through  the  tall  grass,  and  leaped 
to  his  feet,  a  knife  glittering  in  his  hand. 

But  a  battery  would  not  have  swerved  Halo- 
well.  He  ran  in  beneath  the  knife,  and  had 
its  possessor  on  the  ground  before  the  steel 
could  more  than  flash.  The  fellow  showed 
fight;  and  only  after  he  had  been  disarmed  and 
throttled  did  he  accept  his  fate. 

"  Now  I'll  ask  what  it  means,"  panted  the 
victor.  "We'll  have  no — Hell's  Fury!" 

"  You — You  needn't  be  so  rough  with  a  vis- 
itor," Dalton  said,  rubbing  his  throat  in  a  piti- 
fully transparent  attempt  at  jocularity.  "  I've 
come  for  my  sword."  He  was  gasping,  and  his 
face  was  wet  with  perspiration;  and  the  quick, 
haunted  looks  he  cast  to  right  and  left,  and  the 
nervous  pauses  in  his  speech,  sent  a  sickening 
fear  to  his  hearer's  heart.  "  I've  come — for  my 
sword,  Halowell,"  he  repeated. 

Halowell  breathed  deeply.  "What  have 
they  come  for?  "  he  whispered. 

The  question  was  occasioned  by  the  sound  of 


Halowell  Takes  His  Revenge      245 

a  voice  calling  from  the  road,  and  another  an- 
swering from  the  copse.  Along  the  crest  of  the 
roll  of  land  down  which  Dalton  had  crept  a  dim 
silhouette  was  striding  and  a  lantern  was  pick- 
ing sparks  on  the  high  boots  and  slender  spurs 
of  an  officer  and  flaming  on  the  broad  scab- 
bards of  a  dozen  attendant  troopers.  From  the 
line  of  trees  that  marked  the  highway  a  fan- 
like  mass  of  men  (a  dismounted  troop,  Halo- 
well's  experience  told  him)  was  creeping  over 
every  inch  of  ground  between  it  and  the  bridle 
path  to  the  huts.  Completing  the  circle  was  the 
hubbub  of  voices  sounding  at  the  far  end  of  the 
regimental  street. 

And  then  Dalton  went  to  pieces  and  grovelled 
and  crawled  on  his  knees,  and  begged  to  be 
hidden — to  be  hidden  for  Joyce's  sake! 

"  She  would  die  if  I  were  taken !  "  he  whim- 
pered in  a  frenzy  of  abject  fear.  "  You  love 
her !  Would  you  kill  her  ?  Would  you !  " 

Halowell's  breath  was  again  congested. 
When  he  spoke  it  was  to  say,  "  Good  God ! " 
very  quietly. 

"  Would  you  kill  her !  "  repeated  Dalton,  and 


246  Clayton  Halowell 

a  sudden  thrill  of  hope  lightened  the  hoarseness 
of  his  voice.  "  She — she — " 

"  Get  up  and  follow  me !  "  Halowell  mut- 
tered, and  keeping  in  the  shelter  of  the  shallow 
valley,  led  the  way  to  the  hut.  It  was  only  a 
few  steps,  but  the  journey  seemed  endless. 
When  the  door  was  closed  Dalton  sank  weakly 
upon  a  stool  and  his  miserable  captor  walked  to 
the  window  and  rested  his  elbows  upon  the  sill. 
Presently  he  looked  around ;  and  the  frightened 
coward  who  was  trading  on  man's  holiest  af- 
fection to  save  his  worthless  neck,  was  shocked 
and  awed  by  the  change  wrought  in  the  few 
moments  of  silence.  Deep  furrows  seamed 
HalowelFs  cheeks,  and  blue  rings  of  suffering 
had  appeared  beneath  his  eyes.  In  spite  of  his 
agony  no  shadow  of  pity  softened  the  sternness 
of  his  features.  Yet  in  its  stead  was  an  inex- 
plicable something  which  told  the  shivering, 
gasping  fugitive  that  his  plea  had  borne  the 
desired  fruit. 

"  Get  under  the  cot,"  whispered  Halowell. 
The  cordon  of  searchers  was  drawing  steadily 
nearer  the  door  and  escape  into  the  open  was 


Halo  well  Takes  His  Revenge      247 

impossible.  "  I'll  save  your  neck  if  I  can.  No ! 
No  thanks !  "  He  drew  away  his  hand  with  so 
fierce  a  loathing  that  the  supplicant  flushed, 
notwithstanding  the  force  of  his  terror.  "  I 
would  help  pull  the  rope  myself,  and  fill  you 
full  of  lead  afterward  for  a  damned  spying 
hound  if — if  you  weren't  the  brother  of  your 
sister." 

"  I'll  never  do  it  again,  I  swear,  Halowell." 
"  I  suppose  it  was  you  who  murdered  Bill- 
ings last  week!  "  snarled  Halowell,  and  raised 
his  fist.  But  the  action  being  purely  involun- 
tary, its  menace  was  instantly  softened  to  a 
motion  for  the  fugitive  to  crawl  beneath  the 
truckle-bed — the  only  cover  in  the  room.  When 
the  silent  command  had  been  obeyed  the  white- 
faced  host  seated  himself  once  more  beside  the 
door  and  relighted  his  pipe.  He  dared  not 
think ;  but  he  must  plan.  By  the  sounds,  every 
hut  in  the  cantonment  was  being  searched,  and 
he  would  need  his  wits,  as  he  had  seldom 
needed  them  before,  for  Joyce.  When  the 
searchers  finally  came,  they  found  him  cool  and 
ready. 


248  Clayton  Halowell 

"  Evening  again,  Mr.  Halowell,"  Captain 
Bacon  said  briskly.  He  was  a  square,  middle- 
aged  New  Englander,  with  a  resolute  mouth 
and  the  eyes  of  a  devil.  "  We're  on  the  scent 
of  a  spy  at  last,  praise  Heaven.  He  tried  a 
shot  at  Buckwell,  of  my  troop,  back  by  the 
river,  but  we  were  expecting  him  this  time — 
Ho  there,  Ball!  Stick  the  lantern  into  the 
bushes,  man! — You  haven't  seen  the  fellow, 
have  you  ?  " 

"  No."  Halowell  fully  realized  that  the  lie 
burned  his  bridges,  and  that  the  penalty  at- 
tached to  the  crime  of  shielding  a  traitor  was 
death.  "  I've  seen  no  one.  Do  you  want  to 
search?  I'll  strike  a  light."  He  lit  a  dip  and 
stuck  it  in  the  tin  holder  without  a  tremor  mar- 
ring the  steadiness  of  his  hand.  "  Don't  stand 
in  the  door — come  in,  Bacon." 

"  Thanks,  Major,  but  I'll  stay  here  and 
watch  the  boys.  Buckwell!  on  the  roof  with 
you  and  have  a  peep  down  the  chimney! — If 
you  haven't  been  away  from  here  since  I  saw 
you  yonder,  the  fellow  certainly  can't  be  in  your 


Halowell  Takes  His  Revenge      249 

palace  and  I  certainly  won't  waste  time  in  a 
formality." 

"  Why  should  anyone  try  to  shoot  Buck- 
well  ?  "  Halowell  asked,  after  having  watched 
the  seachers  rout  out  sleepers  and  pull  cots 
apart  with  business-like  disregard  for  the  pro- 
tests of  the  outraged  occupants. 

Bacon  laughed  gleefully.  "  Because,  d'ye 
see,  it  was  advertised  that  despatches  would  be 
carried  to-night,  and  Buckwell  was  the  man  to 
carry  them.  It's  my  scheme,  too;  slick,  don't 
you  think  ?  " 

Halowell  agreed  that  the  trick  was  slick  and, 
after  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  asked, 
'"'  Have  you  any  description  of  the  traitor?  " 

"  Nothing  regular,  but  enough.  Tall,  and 
wore  a  mask,  Buckwell  says,  He's  in  this  hol- 
low somewhere  and  we'll  get  him,  don't  you 
worry." 

"  I'm  not,"  said  the  listener  evenly. 

At  this  moment  there  appeared  upon  the 
threshold  a  heavy,  square-jawed  man,  who 
grinned  at  Halowell  and  whom  that  gentleman 


250  Clayton  Halowell 

instantly  recognized  as  the  free  talker  he  had 
captured  and  chidden  on  the  Green  a  few  hours 
before.  The  fellow  set  his  lantern  on  the  floor 
near  the  foot  of  the  cot  and  made  a  hurried  re- 
port to  his  commander.  The  Major  could  not 
but  admire  the  pluck  with  which  the  man  had 
invited  death.  He  expressed  his  thoughts,  and 
had  gotten  as  far  as,  "  You  deserve  a  troop,  my 
man,  sink  me  if  you  don't ! "  when  his  throat 
grew  suddenly  dry  and  the  words  failed  to 
come.  Just  beyond  the  circle  of  light  cast  by 
Buckwell's  lantern  lay  a  mask  that  was  spot- 
ted with  fresh  blood.  Luckily  Bacon  was  ab- 
sorbed with  his  trooper  and  so  did  not  observe 
the  flicker  of  panic  which  whitened  his  host's 
face.  Reckless  as  he  was,  Halowell  could  not 
regard  death  on  the  gallows  without  this  mo- 
mentary shrinking.  A  shot  or  a  sabre-stroke 
could  be  laughed  at,  but  not  a  rope. 

Buckwell  was  picking  up  his  lantern  and  sa- 
luting when  Halowell's  faculties  regained  their 
normal  altitude  of  interested  imperturbility. 
He  took  a  quick  stride  toward  the  damning 
oval  of  silk. 


'Just  you  leave  it,"  said  a  voice  from  the  darkness. 

—Page  251. 


Halowell  Takes  His  Revenge      251 

"Just  you  leave  it,"  said  a  voice  from  the 
darkness,  and  the  muzzle  of  a  pistol  appeared 
over  the  window-sill  and  covered  him.  "  Look 
on  the  floor,  Capt'n,  by  the  foot  o'  the 
cot." 

Bacon  whirled  around,  saw,  and  slowly 
picked  up  the  mask.  Buckwell  brought  his  lan- 
tern, and  the  pair  stared  first  at  the  spotted  silk 
and  then  at  Halowell,  amazement,  doubt,  sus- 
picion and  conviction  painted  successively  in 
both  blunt  countenances.  Without,  the  oaths 
and  crashes  incident  to  the  search  were  sound- 
ing loudly;  within,  the  silence  was  of  the 
breathless  variety  with  which  one  awaits  a 
calamity. 

Presently  Bacon  spoke.  "  What's  this  ?  "  he 
asked,  holding  up  the  mask.  "And  these?" 
pointing  to  the  blood-spots. 

Halowell's  lips  were  white  and  his  voice  a 
trifle  unsteady,  but,  "  It's  a  mask,  I  should 
say,"  he  replied,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  And  my  mare's  blood,"  growled  Buckwell. 
"  Wet,  too,  you  see,  Capt'n." 

"  He  was  agoin'  to  kick  it  under  the  bed," 


252  Clayton  Halowell 

volunteered  the  trooper  at  the  window.  "  Shall 
I  shoot?" 

"  No."  Bacon's  voice  was  ominously  quiet. 
"  No,  Krause,  lead  is  too  good  for  this  gentle- 
man. He'll  have  a  chance  to  explain  things 
later.  You  may  collect  the  men;  I  think  they 
need  hunt  no  further."  Then,  turning  to 
Halowell,  who  was  absently  clinking  his  nails 
upon  his  tobacco-jar,  "  I  arrest  you,  Major 
Halowell,  in  the  name  of  the  Continental  Con- 
gress and  His  Excellency,  General  Washing- 
ton. You  are  my  prisoner,  sir." 

Few  men  are  consistently  bad,  and  for  a 
second  Dalton,  in  the  security  of  his  black  cor- 
ner and  of  Bacon's  headstrong  jumping  at  con- 
clusions, hesitated  to  accept  this  means  of  es- 
cape. But  Nature  allows  no  rebellion  among 
her  weaklings;  and  after  the  first  flush  of  hor- 
ror occasioned  by  the  unexpected  turn  of  events, 
she  forced  the  Coward  above  the  Man.  Dalton 
knew  Halowell  would  not  voluntarily  besmirch 
Joyce's  name.  And  there  would  be  time  to 
effect  a  rescue  before  an  execution  could  take 
place.  The  coward's  ever-present  cry,  "  There 


Halowell  Takes  His  Revenge       253 

is  time,"  was  the  traitor's  sole  plea,  his  single 
extenuation  for  this  more  than  dastardly  act, 
which  had  not  even  the  saving  grace  of  love- 
inspiration,  as  had  his  crimes  against  the  gov- 
ernment. And  Halowell,  his  lips  whiter  than 
the  lace  of  his  frill,  and  his  soul  a  fierce  jumble 
of  emotions  (fear  for  Joyce,  savage  scorn  for 
her  brother,  and  anguish  for  himself),  marched 
away  between  two  files  of  sternly-silent 
troopers. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHEREIN  A  MAN  STRUGGLES  AND  IS  VIC- 
TORIOUS 

THE  second  day  of  captivity  and  the  first 
session  of  the  trial  were  over,  and  Halowell, 
shaken  and  livid,  was  pacing  his  darkening  cell. 
In  the  two  latter  years  of  his  life  position  and 
honor  in  his  profession  had  been  the  sole  bea- 
cons of  his  existence.  Almost  the  only  events 
at  which  he  need  not  blush  incident  to  these 
aims  were  his  love  for  Joyce  and  his  army  rec- 
ord. Like  a  widowed  mother,  he  had  nursed 
these  two  loves  until  they  had  grown  a  part  of 
his  life.  With  the  hideous  certainty  that  their 
loss  was  but  the  matter  of  hours  and  the  whim 
of  one  vacillating  coward,  his  soul  filled 
with  an  agony  never  before  experienced.  If 
he  could  only  die!  If  the  dastard  would  only 
confess!  If — He  dashed  the  perspiration 
fiercely  from  his  forehead,  wondering  as  fierce- 
ly at  his  own  sensations.  The  usual  indiffer- 
254 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  255 

ence  with  which  he  regarded  death  or  ill-luck 
was  so  completely  swallowed  in  his  new  horror 
that  he  felt  almost  as  if  another  man  were  oc- 
cupying the  flesh  of  the  old  Clayton.  And 
certainly  no  one  would  have  recognized  in  this 
pallid,  haggard,  suffering  man,  the  swagger- 
ing, genial,  debonair  soldier  of  yesterday.  It 
was  not  the  actual  death,  degrading  and  un- 
soldierly  as  it  was,  that  frightened  the  cap- 
tive— it  was  the  fear  that  Joyce  believed  him 
guilty  and  that  Washington  would  think  him 
ungrateful. 

At  length,  exhausted  by  the  violence  of  his 
own  pain,  Halowell  threw  himself  upon  the 
cot.  The  low  mutter  of  the  guards  outside  the 
door  recalled  the  scenes  of  the  day's  trial.  In 
the  two  muttering  voices  the  tortured  man 
heard  all  the  hateful  sounds  which,  a  few  hours 
before,  had  deafened  and  deadened  his  senses. 
The  jostling  of  the  crowds ;  the  stares  and  mut- 
tered curses  of  the  spectators;  the  shrill  hoots 
of  the  urchins  in  the  street;  the  interminable 
shuffle  of  feet  and  mumble  of  voices  in  the  low 
room  back  of  the  Provost's  office — all  returned 


256  Clayton  Halowell 

to  him  now  in  one  great  wave  of  horror.  He 
dared  not  think  of  the  outcome  of  the  trial.  In- 
deed, there  was  no  necessity  for  thought  on  the 
subject;  his  persistent  silence,  and  the  damning 
evidence  of  Bacon,  Buckwell,  and  the  re- 
mainder of  the  squad  which  had  captured  him 
were  conviction  in  themselves.  That  much  had 
been  patent  in  the  hardening  lips  of  the  court, 
as,  hour  after  hour,  corroboration  after  corrob- 
oration  had  been  piled  up.  Bacon,  recounting 
his  visit  to  the  accused's  quarters  and  the  find- 
ing of  the  bloody  mask,  had  been  convincing  in 
his  terseness.  Buckwell,  telling  of  the  meeting 
on  the  Green,  had  conclusively  proved  the 
knowledge  of  the  accused  to  the  existence  of 
the  dispatches.  Trooper  Krause  had  established 
the  fact  that  the  mask  could  not  have  been  in- 
nocent, else  why  the  necessity  of  surreptitiously 
concealing  it.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  this  heap  of 
evidence,  there  was  to  be  another  session  in  the 
morning,  when,  the  judge-advocate  had  an- 
nounced, he  would  sum  up  his  case  and  demand 
a  verdict. 

As  the  hours  had  dragged  wearily  along  the 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  257 

silent,  impassive  prisoner  had  realized  that  his 
act  of  criminal  complicity  in  high  treason  was 
resolving  itself  into  one  of  suicide.  A  thousand 
times  he  applied  to  himself  every  fierce  invec- 
tive his  extended  vocabulary  contained.  One 
little  word  would  clear  him  and  convict  the 
traitor — one  little  word  which  forever  died  still- 
born on  his  lips.  And  because  of  his  contuma- 
cious silence  the  evidence,  unchecked,  built  a 
gallows.  He  had  searched  for  Joyce  and  her 
brother  amid  the  rows  of  strained  faces  that 
filled  the  Court-room,  and  had  rebelled  bitterly 
when  he  had  not  found  the  former.  The  latter, 
he  discovered  wavering  and  sweating  in  a  cor- 
ner. For  a  full  minute  captive  and  traitor  had 
stared.  Then  Dalton's  eyes  had  dropped.  The 
next  time  the  prisoner  looked,  the  hatefully 
familiar  face  had  vanished  and  with  it  the  last 
ray  of  hope  which  unconsciously  had  buoyed 
his  spirits.  He  had  accepted  his  fate  passively. 
Now  he  wondered  idly  if  the  fellow's  soul  were 
as  harrowed  as  was  his,  and  derived  a  certain 
grim  comfort  from  the  recollection  of  his  quiv- 
ering, paste-white  face. 


258  Clayton  Halowell 

Darkness  does  not  always  salve  a  pain,  and 
for  all  his  stoicism,  Halowell  welcomed  the  first 
sign  of  dawn !  The  sight  of  the  sun  painting 
the  purple  clouds  with  crimson,  and  the  sound 
of  the  birds  carrolling  greeting  to  the  god  of 
day,  soothed  him.  But  as  the  time  drew  near 
for  the  repetition  of  the  previous  day's  ordeal 
the  reserve  the  few  hours'  rest  had  built  around 
his  heart  gave  way  and  the  old  Halowell  burst 
forth  in  a  whirlwind  of  passion.  His  mouth 
lost  its  curve  of  suffering  and  was  cut  with  a 
hard  line.  He  would  not  be  a  martyr  to  a  silly, 
irresponsible  impulse — a  quixotic  whim — a  dis- 
torted notion  of  honor!  He  would  not  give 
his  life  that  a  cur — a  miserable  wretch  whose 
existence  had  been,  and  would  be,  a  lie — might 
continue  his  puerile  existence !  In  a  frenzy  he 
beat  on  the  door  with  his  fists  and  roared  for 
the  guard.  When,  however,  that  drowsy  offi- 
cial appeared,  it  was  to  find  the  prisoner  the 
impassive,  silent  individual  whom  Bacon  had 
delivered  to  him  the  previous  day.  For,  be- 
fore the  man  had  arrived  there  had  flashed  into 
Halowell 's  mind  a  vision  (a  flower-tinted  face 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  259 

with  tender  lips  that  drooped  pitifully,  and 
velvet  eyes  that  were  brimming  with  tears), 
and  a  fact  (that  he  was  not  doing  his  martyr- 
dom for  the  man) .  The  girl  would  never  know 
the  impulse  that  had  led  the  condemned 
traitor  to  his  death.  But  the  rope  should  do 
its  work  and  welcome  so  that  the  flower-face 
did  not  wither  and  the  velvet  eyes  dim. 


While  these  thoughts  were  directing  the  pris- 
oner's resolution  the  young  sentry  at  the  gate 
of  the  Ford  House  was  rattling  his  musket  to 
a  charge  and  peering  into  the  face  of  a  haggard 
woman  who  was  demanding  admission  to  His 
Excellency. 

"  What  name,  mistress  ?  "  he  asked,  made 
courteous  by  a  strange  placidity  in  the  white 
face  of  the  applicant. 

On  giving  her  name  the  newcomer  was 
ushered  up  the  curved  walk  and  the  three  low 
wooden  steps  that  led  to  the  Headquarters' 
door.  A  couple  of  aides  were  in  the  narrow 
hall,  brushing  their  cloaks  and  strapping  on 


260  Clayton  Halowell 

their  spurs  preparatory  to  the  day's  work.  Both 
the  men  knew  the  woman,  but  neither  ventured 
a  remark,  the  expression  which  the  sentry  had 
mistaken  for  placidity  being  plain  enough  to 
them. 

"  In  here,  mistress,"  said  the  guide,  and 
opened  the  door  of  an  airy,  square  room, 
flooded  with  the  early  sunshine. 

Left  alone,  with  incongruous  deliberation 
Joyce  noted  the  books,  maps  and  papers  which 
littered  chairs,  window-seats  and  portable 
shelves.  A  long  table  near  the  window  bore  a 
map  of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina.  A  pair 
of  horn  glasses,  a  sword,  and  a  triangular  hat 
decorated  with  a  black  cockade,  lay  on  a  side- 
table.  Beside  the  hearth,  spread  on  a  chair  as  if 
set  out  the  previous  evening  to  dry,  was  a  huge 
black  cloak.  On  the  chimney-piece  lay  a  pile  of 
warrants  labelled  in  staring  black  letters.  This 
latter  sight  set  the  visitor  shivering.  The 
weakness  was  nothing,  however,  to  that 
caused  by  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps. 
Joyce  rose  and  braced  her  nerves  for  the 
ordeal. 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  261 

When  the  door  opened,  instead  of  the  mild, 
handsome  countenance  Joyce  had  expected, 
there  appeared  the  merry  brown  one  of  Billy, 
the  faithful  body-servant  of  His  Excellency. 
The  man  cast  a  quick  look  at  the  cloaked  little 
figure  standing  beside  the  door,  bowed,  and 
proceeded  to  put  the  room  in  order  and  light 
the  fire. 

Scarcely  had  the  tasks  been  accomplished 
when  the  door  opened  again  and  the  man  before 
whose  blows  the  might  of  England  had  re- 
coiled, and  in  whose  calm  eyes  were  centered 
the  hopes  of  a  nation  and  of  one  shivering  girl, 
entered.  The  coldness  of  habitual  self-repres- 
sion lined  his  mouth,  only  to  be  contradicted  by 
the  sadness  which  softened  his  blue  eyes.  The 
mulatto  tiptoed  across  the  room  and  vanished, 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

The  General  paused  an  instant  to  survey  his 
visitor.  He  had  not  discharged  the  duties  of 
his  arduous  position  for  five  years  without  hav- 
ing acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  symptoms  of 
distracted  womanhood.  Though  his  heart  bled 
for  each  individual  sufferer  of  the  dozens  who 


262  Clayton  Halowell 

daily  sought  his  mercy  for  some  erring  dear 
one,  their  pain  and  his  pity  had  never  been 
placed  above  the  public  welfare.  Joyce  knew  this 
and  realized  the  hopelessness  of  her  errand.  But 
when  Washington,  after  the  momentary  hesita- 
tion at  the  door,  started  forward  and,  with 
tender  gallantry,  placed  a  chair  for  her,  she 
poured  forth  her  plea  for  mercy  as  passionately 
as  if  its  success  were  assured.  Sobs  often  kept 
her  silent  for  minutes,  but  the  gentle  gentle- 
man into  whose  heart  the  broken  sentences 
were  searing  saw  only  the  womanly  suffering 
of  the  narrator,  not  the  lavish  and  useless  waste 
of  precious  moments  the  recital  caused. 

"  My  poor  little  girl !  My  poor  little  girl !  " 
he  whispered,  when  she  had  finished  and  was 
gasping  in  her  handkerchief. 

Joyce  eagerly  seized  upon  the  pitying  excla- 
mation. "  Think  too,  of  his  record,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  It  has  been  stainless.  That  should 
count  in  his  favor.  I  know  how  greatly  ap- 
pearances are  against  him,  but  he  won't  speak 
and  he  may  be  shielding  some  companion. 
Perhaps — perhaps  it  is  some  one  you  or  I  know 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  263 

and  love  and  respect.  He  would  do  such  a 
thing  for  one  he  loved." 

The  General's  pity  was  as  apparent  as  the 
sun  and  made  the  weight  of  his  answer  all  the 
more  terrible  to  the  panting  supplicant. 

"  The  very  arguments  you  use,  Mistress  Dai- 
ton,"  he  said,  "  recoil  against  Major  Halowell. 
'  His  record/  you  say.  It  has  been  spotless. 
But  surely  the  fact  that  up  to  now  it  has  been 
so  clear  is  the  more  reason  why  his  crime  should 
be  considered  the  more  heinous.  Ah,  you  sob ! 
Think  of  the  scores  whom  his  treason  has 
caused  to  sob  before  you.  Think  of  the  com- 
rades whom  he  has  wilfully  sacrificed.  Think 
of  our  country,  imperilled  by  his  acts.  And 
his  silence.  If  he  be  shielding  the  real  culprits 
(and  there  are  surely  more  than  he  in  this  af- 
fair) is  not  the  act  also  treason?  He  knows 
the  penalty  for  such  a  crime  and  must  speak  or 
suffer." 

"  I — I  love  him  so !  "  Joyce  sobbed. 

Washington's  mouth  grew  more  tender,  and 
he  laid  a  gentle  hand  on  the  bowed,  quivering 
shoulders  of  his  guest. 


264  Clayton  Halowell 

"  I  will  not  ask  you  to  deny  that  love,  my 
child,"  he  said,  a  world  of  compassion  ringing 
in  his  voice.  "  What  I  will  say  is  this — Try 
to  live  the  love  down,  to  think  of  it  as  a  dream 
that  brought  a  transient  happiness,  and  van- 
ished with  the  morning  sun.  It  sounds  hard  to 
you,  I  doubt  not.  It  is  hard;  yet  you  must  do 
it." 

The  emphasis  on  the  last  sentence  was 
marked  and  the  girl  dried  her  eyes  in  a  des- 
perate kind  of  calm. 

"Then  you  will  do  nothing?"  she  whisp- 
ered, white-lipped. 

"  I  am  powerless,  as  you  must  see." 

"And  Clayton  must — must  die?" 

The  noble  head  bowed.  "  Unless  he  clears 
himself.  The  army  demands  a  life  for  the  many 
sacrificed  by  treason.  And  their  demands  are 
not  only  reasonable  but  just." 

Joyce  smoothed  her  gloves  mechanically,  her 
heart  too  numb  to  feel  the  horror  of  her  failure. 
Her  calmness  alarmed  the  General  and  he 
poured  out  a  glass  of  brandy  and  held  it  to 
her.  The  girl's  attention  was  riveted  on  the 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  265 

Grecian  border  cut  in  the  tiny  glass;  on  the 
pretty  color  of  the  liquor;  on  the  effect  of  the 
sun-light  through  the  rich  brown;  on  every 
trivial  circumstance  connected  with  the  glass 
and  its  contents.  When  Washington  said, 
"  Drink  it,  child,"  she  shook  her  head.  But  at 
his  sympathetic  insistence  she  presently  gulped 
the  liquid  and  felt  stronger  in  body  for  it. 
When  she  reached  home,  however,  where  the 
surroundings  were  eloquent  of  her  love,  the 
dam  of  strained  inactivity  gave  away.  She  did 
not  cry  now  but  sat  in  the  bow-window,  a  white, 
motionless  statue  amid  the  brilliant  geraniums, 
so  terrifying  in  her  silent  agony  that  her 
brother  neglected  to  blaze  into  anger  when  he 
learned  the  errand  that  had  taken  her  out  at 
such  an  hour. 


The  sun  was  not  many  hours  high  when  its 
brightness  became  obscured  in  banks  of  flat, 
gray  clouds  and  a  curtain  of  warm,  sticky,  per- 
sistent rain.  A  mist  crept  up  from  the  soaked 
earth,  blurring  the  hills  and  hanging  like  a  pall 


266  Clayton  Halowell 

upon  the  crowded  town-green.  At  the  height 
of  the  weather's  inclemency  a  corporal's  guard 
tramped  into  a  crowded  room,  a  sternly  com- 
posed man  in  their  midst. 

The  court  was  settled.  At  the  head  of  the 
long,  paper-strewn  table  sat  the  president,  a 
white-haired  infantry  colonel.  On  either  side, 
stretching  to  the  judge-advocate's  chair  at  the 
foot  of  the  board,  were  officers  from  every 
branch  of  the  service,  gathered  to  pass  judg- 
ment upon  their  delinquent  comrade.  Before 
each  judge,  forming  a  rim  of  color  to  the  dis- 
ordered files  of  paper  and  piles  of  books,  lay  a 
chapeau,  busby  or  helmet.  Two  candelabra  lit 
the  double  row  of  impassive  faces  and  brought 
those  of  the  spectators  into  peculiar  promi- 
nence. Halowell  was  idly  sorry  the  lights  had 
been  placed  there,  for  they  showed  familiar 
faces  grown  unrecognizing  and  hard. 

The  prisoner  paid  no  attention  to  the  routine 
business  of  opening  court.  His  eyes,  after  their 
first  general  survey  of  the  scene,  slipped  rapidly 
from  face  to  face  with  a  suppressed  half-hope, 
half-dread.  Was  Joyce  present?  Finally  he 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  267 

saw  her  watching  from  the  voluminous  shelter 
of  a  group  of  honest  countrywomen  who  were 
alternately  admiring  the  prisoner's  handsome 
face  and  remembering  a  son  or  a  cousin  or  a 
sweetheart  who  had  perished  in  the  winter 
raids.  The  girl  smiled  bravely  in  answer  to  a 
dumb  appeal  for  faith.  Halowell  tried  to  an- 
swer the  smile  with  one  as  cheerful,  and  was 
succeeding  fairly  well  when  a  sudden  silence 
portended  the  beginning  of  the  serious  business 
and  distracted  him.  The  judge-advocate  had 
risen  and  the  court-martial  was  in  its  last  dread 
work. 

"  My  evidence,  gentlemen,"  the  advocate 
began,  "  has  been  offered.  I  have  no  more 
witnesses  to  call,  and  have  only  to  ask  the  pris- 
oner if,  at  this  critical  state  of  affairs,  he  will 
break  his  silence  and  either  confess  or  deny  the 
charges  against  him." 

"  Prisoner !  "  said  the  white-haired  president, 
and  Halowell  rose.  "  Prisoner,  will  you  confess 
to,  or  deny,  the  charges  against  you?  " 

The  silence  deepened  as  each  spectator  held 
his  or  her  breath  that  no  syllable  of  the  answer 


268  Clayton  Halowell 

might  be  lost.  Yet  there  was  no  occasion  for 
perturbation;  when  the  prisoner  spoke  it  was 
in  a  voice  distinctly  audible  to  the  furthest  ends 
of  the  room. 

"  I  regret,  sir,  any  seeming  disrespect  to 
the  court,  but  I  can  make  no  exception  in  even 
this  case  to  the  rule  I  have  adhered  to  during 
this  trial." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  state  ?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say,  sir." 

"  Then,  gentlemen,  my  case  is  closed,"  an- 
nounced the  advocate,  and,  upon  the  prisoner's 
resuming  his  seat,  began  his  summing  up.  For 
some  months,  he  said,  the  commander-in-chief 
had  been  aware  of  the  existence  of  a  clique  of 
traitors  from  whom  the  enemy  obtained  ad- 
vance information  of  every  movement  of  Con- 
tinental troops.  From  the  magnitude  of  the 
operations  carried  on  by  these  traitors  it  was  evi- 
dent their  numbers  were  considerable  and  their 
organization  perfect,  and  that  they  had  access 
to  the  inmost  workings  of  the  army  machinery. 
Of  late  these  men  (Halowell  smiled  faintly  at 
the  use  of  the  masculine  noun)  had  grown  bold 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  269 

to  impudence  and,  in  conformity  with  the  old 
adage,  had  been  given  rope  with  which  to  hang 
themselves.  One  of  the  band,  the  prisoner,  had 
been  captured  red-handed,  with  the  appurten- 
ances and  proofs  of  his  crimes  in  his  possession. 
He  had  not  confessed,  nor  had  he  denied  any 
one  of  the  several  charges.  Proof  positive, 
however,  had  been  offered  by  a  dozen  reliable 
witnesses  that  the  highwayman  who  had  fired 
on  Lieutenant  Buckwell  (Halowell  noted  the 
title  and  was  glad  Buckwell's  reward  had  come 
so  quickly)  had  been  of  the  same  height  and 
figure  as  the  prisoner.  Captain  Bacon  and 
Trooper  Krause  had  testified  to  the  attempt  of 
the  prisoner  to  secrete  a  certain  mask,  the  same 
designated  in  evidence  as  exhibit  C.  As  to 
any  question  in  the  minds  of  the  honorable 
court  regarding  the  possibility  of  passing  from 
the  scene  of  the  attempted  crime  to  the  scene 
of  the  arrest  within  the  half  hour  between  the 
prisoner's  meeting  with  Captain  Bacon  and  his 
being  taken  into  custody,  trial  had  proven  that 
the  feat  was  not  only  possible  but  extremely 
easy,  thanks  to  an  old  forage  track  through  the 


270  Clayton  Halowell 

forest  in  the  rear  of  the  cantonment  The  whole 
case,  viewed  calmly  and  dispassionately, 
showed  treason  or  treasonable  complicity;  and 
in  face  of  the  overwhelming  mass  of  fact  and 
proof  offered,  there  was  only  one  conclusion  to 
draw — only  one  verdict  to  be  rendered.  That 
conclusion  was  "  guilty,"  and  the  verdict  should 
be  "  Guilty." 

The  officer  resumed  his  seat  amid  a  murmur 
of  applause.  The  demonstration  being  quickly 
suppressed,  Clayton  watched  the  judges  con- 
verse and  rustle  through  files  of  paper,  as  unin- 
terested as  if  their  discourse  concerned  the 
proper  calibre  of  guns  for  a  new  fortification,  or 
the  number  of  men  necessary  for  a  move  on 
New  York.  Soon  he  tired  of  the  watching  and, 
not  daring  to  trust  himself  to  seek  Joyce,  turned 
to  the  window  and  found  amusement  in  the 
family  quarrel  of  four  sparrows  on  the  limb  of 
a  nearby  tree.  He  noted  that  the  rain  had 
ceased  and  that  the  mist  was  rolling  away  from 
the  river,  disclosing  Olive's  great  house  on  the 
further  slope  and  the  lines  of  waving  trees  on 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  271 

the  far-away  hills.  Then  he  was  sternly  bidden 
to  rise. 

The  lack  of  movement  in  the  room  was  op- 
pressive. An  attendant  had  blown  out  the 
candles,  and  the  odor  of  hot  wax  was  noticeable 
above  that  of  damp  leather.  Every  eye  was 
riveted  upon  the  impassive  face  and  steady  lips 
of  the  prisoner.  Joyce  felt  a  wild,  almost  un- 
controllable desire  to  shriek.  The  dire  sol- 
emnity of  the  occasion  rose  superior  to  the 
mean,  stuffy,  dusty  room.  A  man,  a  former 
comrade,  a  fellow-officer,  was  to  hear  his 
doom. 

"  Prisoner,"  the  president  began.  "  Prisoner, 
if  you  have  aught  to  say  as  to  why  the  verdict 
of  guilty  should  not  be  pronounced  against  you, 
speak." 

For  an  instant  the  epaulettes  of  the  judges 
bobbed  erratic  jigs  before  Halowell's  eyes.  He 
involuntarily  sought  the  still,  white  face  in  the 
corner.  Reading  therein  a  misery  which  would 
only  be  increased  a  thousand  fold  by  knowledge 
of  the  truth,  he  shook  his  head. 


2J2  Clayton  Halowell 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say,  Colonel,"  he  said 
steadily. 

The  president  was  puzzled  and  showed  it.  In 
spite  of  all  proof  to  the  contrary,  he  found  it 
hard  to  believe  that  a  soldier  of  Major  Halo- 
well's  known  valor  could  stoop  to  deliberate 
spying  and  felonious  connivance.  But  his  duty 
was  to  the  army  and  the  country,  and  his  fea- 
tures hardened  after  a  momentary  relaxation. 

"  Will  you  state  the  names  of  your  com- 
panions in  treason?  "  he  asked  coldly.  "  Such 
an  action,  I  may  say,  will  materially  affect  our 
sentence." 

Again  the  steady  eyes  sought  Joyce's  dim 
ones,  and  again  the  clear,  "  I  have  nothing  to 
say,  Colonel,"  rang  through  the  still  room. 

"  You  have  considered  your  answer  ?  "  per- 
sisted the  president. 

"  Thoroughly,  sir." 

"  Then  a  painful  duty  is  at  least  made  easier. 
His  Excellency  has  been  lenient  and,  for  the 
sake  of  your  past  deeds,  granted  a  trial  rather 
than  exercise  his  prerogative  and  deal  with  you 
summarily.  The  trial  has  been  carefully  con- 


"I  have  nothing  to  say,  Colonel." — Page  272. 


A  Man  Struggles  and  is  Victorious  273 

ducted,  due  allowance  having  been  made  for 
your  refusal  to  permit  yourself  to  be  defended 
and  every  consideration  having  been  given  to 
the  facts  as  presented.  The  proof  against  you 
is  conclusive.  This  court  finds  you  guilty  of 
high  treason.  It  directs  that  you  be  executed 
an  hour  after  sunrise  to-morrow,  in  the  manner 
customary  with  spies.  And  may  God  have 
mercy  on  your  soul !  " 

Amid  a  tense,  nerve-drawn  silence  the 
colonel  resumed  his  seat.  But  Halowell  stood 
— a  rigid,  broad-shouldered  figure  casting  a 
long  shadow  over  the  disordered  table.  The 
sun  came  out  and  painted  a  square  of  yellow 
radiance  on  the  floor  at  his  feet.  The  quarrel- 
some sparrows  suddenly  ceased  their  chirping 
and  flew  away.  "  As  is  customary  with  spies !  " 
It  had  come,  and  it  was  horrible.  So  here 
ended  all  the  fine  dreams  of  power  and  glory. 
Here  ended  all  the  strivings  and  heart-aches. 
He  turned  his  eyes  for  the  last  time  to  Joyce, 
and  hugged  to  his  breast  the  thought  that  he 
had  saved  the  girl  a  deeper  pain.  Then  a  wo- 
man's cry  rang  out;  the  court  rose  with  a 


274  Clayton  Halowell 

shuffle  of  feet  and  a  clank  of  sabres;  the  cor- 
poral stepped  forward;  and  the  condemned  spy, 
his  chin  up  and  his  lips  smiling,  was  led  through 
a  passage  of  silent  humanity. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
WHEREIN  JOYCE  LEADS  A  FORLORN  HOPE 

"  CLAYTON/' 

At  the  sound  of  the  voice  pronouncing  his 
name  the  prisoner  whirled  around.  In  the  dusk 
of  the  doorway,  beside  the  guard,  stood  the 
little  figure  which  was  so  inexpressibly  dear 
to  him. 

"  The  lady's  to  talk  to  you  for  just  twenty 
minutes,"  the  guard  explained  gruffly.  (Why 
a  woman  should  waste  tears  on  a  cold-blooded, 
murdering  devil  was  more  than  he  could  un- 
derstand.) "  I'll  close  the  door;  but  I'll  be  on 
the  outside,  so  no  tricks,  mind." 

"  Clayton,  I've  come,"  faltered  Joyce,  and 
held  out  her  hands  simply;  and  as  simply  the 
man  placed  them  on  his  shoulders  and  kissed 
the  lips  that  were  quivering  up  to  him.  The 
girl  was  not  crying,  but  her  agony  was  appar- 
275 


276  Clayton  Halowell 

ent  in  her  drawn,  haggard  cheeks  and  strained 
voice. 

"  Then  you  don't  believe  it,  sweetheart?  you 
don't  believe  it  ?  "  Halowell  cried,  and  the  joy 
of  her  trust  wiped  away  all  the  horrors  of  his 
plight.  "  You  don't  believe  it,  sweetheart?  " 

Joyce  shuddered  and  pressed  closer  to  him. 
"Oh,  no,  no,  no!"  she  cried  sharply.  "You 
couldn't  have  done  it.  I — I  know  you  are 
shielding  someone,  a  coward — " 

A  gentle  hand  upon  her  lips  interrupted  the 
speech.  Clayton  was  looking  down  at  her 
oddly.  Then  he  stooped  and  kissed  her  again, 
she  in  turn,  clinging  to  him,  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  her  cheek  pressed  to  his.  For  a  full 
minute  they  stood  silent.  Then  he  put  her  gently 
from  him  and  his  lips  writhed  as  if  he  were  in 
torture. 

"  Would  you  have  me  do  otherwise  than 
shield  the  man?  "  he  asked  hoarsely.  "  I  inter- 
fered with  his  flight  and — and — would  you 
have  me  do  otherwise  ?  " 

Joyce  was  upon  his  breast  again,  her  eyes 
burning  imploringly  into  his.  "Oh,  my  dar- 


Joyce  Leads  a  Forlorn  Hope       277 

ling,  I  would,  I  would !  Clayton,  Clayton,  you 
must  listen  to  me  There  is  time.  When  Mr. 
Washington  gave  me  my  pass,  he  said  there 
was  time  to  save  you  if  you  could  only  be  per- 
suaded to  tell  who  the  traitors  are.  He  told  me 
that,  dearest,  and  he  believes  in  you,  only — only 
he  must  punish  you  because  you  make  him. 
Don't  you  see  you  can  save  yourself !  If  you 
die  that  death — if  you  die,  I  shall  die  too.  I 
shall  pray  to  God  to  let  me  die !  " 

The  girl  flung  herself  sobbing  upon  the  cot. 
Halowell  turned  away  and  groaned.  God ! 
Was  ever  man  so  tempted !  The  sister  beseech- 
ing the  lover  to  give  the  brother  to  the  rope. 
And  the  lover  in  love  with  the  supplicant  and 
with  life !  The  man  moistened  his  lips  and  tried 
to  speak,  to  answer,  to  comfort,  but  the  stiff 
flesh  refused  its  office;  and  he  dared  not  even 
glance  toward  the  prostrate  figure  for  fear  his 
determination  would  break. 

After  many  of  the  precious  twenty  minutes 
had  been  wasted  Joyce's  sobs  grew  weaker. 
Then,  and  only  then,  was  Halowell  sufficiently 
master  of  himself  to  dare  sit  beside  her.  She 


278  Clayton  Halowell 

looked  so  frail,  and,  withal  so  beautiful,  in  the 
disorder  of  her  grief,  that  his  struggle  had  to  be 
re-fought.  But  strength  had  returned  to  him, 
and  the  second  fight  with  the  flesh  was  shorter 
and  less  severe  than  had  been  the  first. 

"  Sweetheart,"  he  said,  clasping  one  cold  lit- 
tle hand  within  his  own  cold  palms.  "  Sweet- 
heart, we  must  bow  to  Fate.  In  Her  infinite 
mercy  She  sent  me  to  you  and  gave  me  five 
precious,  precious  weeks  of  happiness.  In  her 
infinite  wisdom  She  is  taking  me  away.  But  I 
have  tasted  and  am  content  to  bow.  I'm  not  a 
good  man,  darling;  I've  been  hard  and  violent 
and  reckless  all  my  life.  It's  in  my  blood  Joyce, 
and  I  could  no  more  fight  against  it  than  a  dog 
can  overcome  his  hatred  for  a  rat.  Your  love 
might  have  purged  me;  yet  what  am  I  to  pit  a 
hazard  against  Fate's  certainty  ?  Ah,  you  need 
not  protest;  I  know  too  well  that  I  am  saying 
truth.  I  am  to  go  to-morrow ;  and  with  me  goes 
dishonor.  So  be  it.  At  least  they  cannot  take 
away  this  moment,  and  the  memory  of  my  hap- 
piness. And  your  love  will  help  me  be  a  better 
man  in  the  next  world." 


Joyce  Leads  a  Forlorn  Hope       279 

Joyce  raised  her  tear-stained  face,  but 
though  her  lips  quivered,  no  sound  came  forth. 
Clayton  kissed  her  gently,  reverently,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  In  time,  my  darling,  you  will  marry — will 
marry  a  man  who  will  be  your  companion  and 
guide.  It  is  inevitable,  and — if  it  will  be  a 
source  of  comfort  to  you — it  is  my  wish.  Let 
me  be  an  incident  of  your  youth — " 

"  Beg  pardon,  mistress."  The  guard  was  at 
the  door,  touching  his  ragged  hat.  "  Beg  par- 
don, mistress,  but  time's  up." 

Joyce  turned  her  ghastly,  startled  face  to  the 
intruder.  Only,  however,  when  he  had  re- 
peated his  horrible  words  did  she  seem  to  grasp 
his  meaning.  It  was  the  last  time  she  would 
ever  see  Clayton!  In  the  morning  he  would 
be — her  face  changed  from  white  to  gray,  and 
she  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  bosom  as  if  to 
still  the  tumult  raging  there.  Her  mute  agony 
made  the  guard  turn  his  eyes  aside  and  shuffle 
uneasily. 

Halowell,  watching  her,  gripped  the  edge  of 
the  pallet  until  his  hands  were  cut  by  the  blunt 


280  Clayton  Halowell 

wood.  Then,  "  Come,  little  woman,"  he  whis- 
pered, rising  and  holding  out  his  arms.  The  girl 
tottered  to  her  feet,  made  one  blind  step  toward 
her  lover,  and  collapsed.  The  guard  ran  for- 
ward to  raise  her,  but  a  look  from  the  prisoner 
caused  him  to  shrink  away  hastily. 

Very  gently  Clayton  raised  the  slender  form  ; 
very  gently  he  kissed  the  cold  lips  and  the 
waxen,  curl-enframed  forehead.  And  as  dis- 
passionately as  if  he  were  bidding  a  sleeping 
child  an  hour's  farewell  he  held  her  out  to  the 
blubbering  sentry.  "  Send  her  home  quickly," 
he  said.  (He  did  not  recognize  a  single  tone 
of  his  own  voice.)  "  Send — her — home — 
quickly." 

For  many  minutes  after  the  door  had  closed 
and  the  squdge  of  wheels  had  ceased,  Halowell 
sat  on  his  bed,  livid  and  motionless.  Three  men 
entered  and  stripped  him  of  his  uniform — the 
blue  and  white  he  had  disgraced.  He  endured 
them  calmly,  and  almost  smiled  when  he  recog- 
nised his  best  maroon-velvet  coat  in  the  bundle 
they  left  for  him.  Then  a  chaplain  came,  a 
gaunt  Bostonian  of  the  most  pronounced  Cal- 


Joyce  Leads  a  Forlorn  Hope       281 

vinistic  type,  and  poured  dozens  of  Bible 
verses,  and  a  somewhat  hazy  discourse  on  the 
joys  of  Heaven  and  true  repentance,  into  his 
deaf  ears.  When,  however,  the  divine  started 
to  paint  the  horrors  of  Hell  the  prisoner  cried 
savagely  that  he  wished  to  be  left  alone  to  die 
his  death  in  his  own  way,  whereupon  the 
preacher,  drawing  up  his  thin  form,  hurled  the 
church's  curse  at  the  unrepentant  sinner  and 
stalked  away  with  small  trace  of  Christian  for- 
giveness in  his  hard,  lined  face. 

The  closing  hours  of  light  the  prisoner  spent 
in  writing  three  letters — one  to  Dalton,  one  to 
Olive,  and  the  third  to  Joyce.  The  task  finished, 
he  ate  of  the  brown  bread  and  salt  fish  which 
composed  his  supper;  threw  himself  upon  the 
bed;  and  forgot  that  his  sleep  was  the  last  he 
would  enjoy  on  earth.  For,  if  campaigning 
and  a  life  of  continual  danger  brings  no  other 
gifts,  it  at  least  teaches  men  to  die  with  good 
grace,  and  to  sleep  soundly  in  strained  situa- 
tions. 


282  Clayton  Halowell 

If  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  all  things  must 
end,  the  Melancholy  Dane's  famous  query  could 
be  answered  off-hand  in  the  negative.  To 
Joyce,  though,  the  afternoon  seemed  an  endless 
succession  of  horrible  visions  and  exquisite 
agonies.  Upon  her  return  from  the  prison  her 
brother  had  helped  her  to  the  lounge  in  his 
study.  Then,  immersed  in  his  own  selfish  fears 
(Halowell  might  break  down  at  the  last  mo- 
ment), he  took  no  further  physical  notice  of 
her.  Mentally  he  was  busy  bolstering  his  con- 
science with  the  fact  that  Clayton  had  made  the 
sacrifice  voluntarily  and  with  the  knowledge 
that  misery  does  not  kill  at  eighteen.  Indeed, 
a  sort  of  fierce  satisfaction  that  his  earlier  de- 
feat had  been  thus  expiated,  tinged  his  thoughts 
rosily.  The  half-formed  ideas  of  escape  with 
which  he  had  silenced  the  cries  of  his  better 
nature  during  the  first  hours  of  his  victim's 
capture  had  been  succeeded  by  a  sullen  apathy, 
a  vindictive  resolve  that  the  road  to  Olive's  love 
and  his  future  peace  of  mind  should  be  cleared 
of  the  last  obstacle  if  his  passivity  could  accom- 
plish that  result.  But  into  his  satisfaction  for- 


Joyce  Leads  a  Forlorn  Hope       283 

ever  would  creep  the  disquieting  possibility  that 
Halowell  might  break  down.  It  occurred  to 
him  now  and  made  him  look  up  restlessly  from 
the  pile  of  letters  he  was  pretending  to  arrange. 
Curse  laggard  Time!  Would  the  clock  never 
move !  After  supper  he  could  endure  the  strain 
no  longer,  and,  with  a  hasty  good-night  to 
Joyce,  flung  on  his  cloak  and  strode  off  to 
Headquarters  to  learn  the  latest  news. 

Left  alone,  Joyce  crept  to  the  chintz  sitting- 
room  and  laid  her  cold  cheek  upon  the  high- 
backed  chair  that  had  been  her  lover's  favorite 
seat,  and  which  was  still  standing  lovingly  near 
the  geraniums,  just  as  he  had  risen  from  it. 
The  spinnet  was  open  but  dumb ;  the  chocolate 
service  on  the  little  side-table  was  ranged  about 
the  candelabra  just  as  if  it  were  to  be  used  to- 
morrow. The  room  was  too  utterly  mournful 
with  its  associations  and  the  girl  sprang  to  her 
feet  and  fled,  crying  softly.  The  hours  she 
spent  in  her  chamber,  alternately  burning  and 
shivering  from  the  fever  in  her  veins  and  the 
seething  rebellion  in  her  brain,  were  blanks. 
The  sigh  of  the  wind  as  it  swept  over  the  hills, 


284  Clayton  Halowell 

and  the  dreary  rustle  of  the  willows  beside  the 
river,  moaned  her  thoughts  and  whispered  their 
eternal  "Why?"  Why  did  she  live?  Why 
had  she  been  allowed  to  love  this  man  ?  Why 
should  he  be  the  ordained  sacrifice  of  a  crime  of 
which  he  was  guiltless?  Why — why — always 
the  cry  of  a  troubled  heart — the  cry  that  strikes 
to  the  root  of  the  universe  and  is  forever  unan- 
swerable. Joyce  remembered  vaguely  of  see- 
ing George  return  and  of  being  oppressed  by 
the  unnatural  voices  which  seemed  to  have  im- 
pregnated the  night.  She  watched  the  lights 
in  the  town  go  out,  one  by  one.  Minutes  were 
as  seconds  and  hours  as  minutes :  time  was  en- 
gulfed in  the  troubled  sea  of  her  misery.  Be- 
fore she  had  realized  that  the  night  was  spent, 
a  livid  streak  shot  into  the  sky.  She  rubbed 
her  aching  eyes  and  stared  heavily  at  the  har- 
binger of  death.  Its  light  woke  the  valley. 
A  string  of  wagons  crawled  up  the  side  of 
Mount  Kemble  and  stood  in  bold  relief  against 
the  whitened  clouds.  In  the  cattle-pens  which 
edged  the  Newark  Pike  steers  began  to  low 
thirstily.  On  the  road  itself,  early  aids  and  tired 


Joyce  Leads  a  Forlorn  Hope       285 

sentries  congregated.  She  heard  a  step  in  the 
yard  and  saw  George,  cloaked  as  for  a  ride  but 
without  spurs  (she  noted  the  details  listlessly), 
glide  through  the  gate  and  disappear.  The  day 
had  dawned. 

Presently,  above  the  vaguer  sounds  of  the 
awakening  camps,  the  girl  heard  the  clatter  of 
a  galloping  horse.  As  she  had  noted  the  dis- 
crepancies of  her  brother's  costume,  so  now  she 
listened  to  the  rhythmic  pound  of  noofs  as  the 
wind  blew  the  sound  now  loud,  now  soft,  into 
her  ears.  After  a  brief  interval  the  sounds 
ceased,  and  were  replaced  by  the  slop  of  hoofs 
in  the  mud  of  the  lane.  Before  she  could  won- 
der at  the  intrusion  the  horse  had  appeared  be- 
tween the  syringa  bushes,  and  a  series  of  knocks 
was  threatening  to  rip  the  clapper  from  its 
hinges.  She  crept  stiffly  down  to  the  door  and 
opened  it.  A  woman,  tall  and  graceful  and 
muddy  and  dishevelled,  clutched  her  shoulders 
and  gasped  thickly,  without  the  least  saluta- 
tion, 

"When  is  it  to  be?  When  is  it  to  be? 
Quick,  for  the  love  of  God ! " 


•286  Clayton  Halowcll 

"  Madam  de  Laurent ! " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes!  Where  is  he,  and  when  is 
the — the  execution  to — "  A  deep  breath  cut 
the  question  and  Olive  caught  at  the  door. 
"  Have  we  time  ?  "  she  gasped. 

There  is  nothing  so  sharp  as  the  wits  of  a 
woman  in  love.  Though  Joyce  had  good  rea- 
son to  be  curious  at  this  unexpected  visitor's 
agitation,  she  divined  that  something  extraor- 
dinary was  about  to  occur  and  that  the  some- 
thing affected  Clayton's  life. 

"  You  can  save  him  ?  "  she  asked  simply ;  and 
to  Olive's  short  affirmative,  said,  "  Wait  here," 
and  ran  up  stairs  and  was  down  again  in  a 
moment,  cloaked  for  the  road.  "  I'll  take  you 
to  him." 

To  the  girl's  surprise  Olive  stooped  and 
kissed  her.  "You  love  him  too?"  she  whis- 
pered, almost  fiercely. 

"  More  than  anything  in  the  world." 

"  Then  hasten — hasten !  " 

By  the  time  the  stiff  buckles  of  Joyce's  saddle 
had  been  mastered,  what  with  the  delay  and  the 
suspense  and  the  nervous  strain  of  her  all-night 


Joyce  Leads  a  Forlorn  Hope       287 

journey,  Olive  was  crying.  Womanly  divina- 
tion disclosed  the  truth  to  the  girl,  and  she 
found  solace  to  her  own  grief  in  comforting  her 
companion. 

On  the  road,  in  a  few  words,  Olive  told  her 
story:  how  she  had  heard  of  Clayton's  arrest 
and  conviction  only  the  previous  evening,  and 
had  come  from  Dover  post  to  save  him.  Five 
miles  from  Mendham  the  coach  had  broken 
down  and  she  had  completed  the  journey  on 
one  of  the  postillion  horses. 

"  God  knows  why  I  do  it !  "  she  finished,  in 
a  burst  of  passionate  bitterness.  "  I've  tried 
often  enough  to  have  him  torn  from  you.  He 
loved  me  once  and  I — My  whole  life  has  been 
a  curse,  a  plague,  a  disease  from  which  there  is 
no  escape  but  in  death.  I  wish  I  were  dead! 
I  wish  I  were  dead !  " 

"  Hush,"  said  Joyce  softly. 

The  livid  streaks  in  the  clouds  had  turned 
pink,  and  a  gray  light  was  filtering  through 
the  ground-mist  when  the  two  women  crossed 
the  village  green  and  entered  deserted  Main 
street.  Before  the  Court  House  had  been 


a88  Clayton  Halo  well 

passed  a  long  yellow  ray  had  shot  over  the  hori- 
zon. Olive  muffled  a  cry  and  her  eyes  were  as 
menacing  and  furious  as  those  of  a  lioness 
robbed  of  her  cubs. 

"  If  we  are  late !  "  she  gasped.  "  If  we  are 
late  I  swear  the  man  who  did  this  thing  shall 
die  and  rot  and  be  carrion  before  another  day !  " 

"  Pray  God  we  are  in  time,"  said  Joyce. 

Madam  turned  her  burning  eyes  upon  this 
child  who  had  won  her  lover  from  her  without 
so  much  as  an  effort,  and  who  was  the  uncon- 
scious cause  of  his  nearness  to  death.  "  Pray 
— pray  if  that  will  help :  I  cannot !  "  She  did 
not  look  as  if  she  were  lying.  "Joyce,  dear 
Joyce,  pray  for  him  and — and  pray  for  me." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHEREIN    THE    END    IS    ATTAINED 

"  IT  is  time,  prisoner." 

Halowell  rolled  over  and  beheld  a  solemn- 
visaged  cavalry-captain  standing  over  him.  At 
the  foot  of  the  pallet  the  lank  New  England 
chaplain  was  droning  forth  Bible  quotations, 
with  a  surgeon  yawning  at  his  side  and  six 
troopers  staring  over  his  shoulders.  In  the 
hall  were  the  helmets  of  a  dozen  more  men. 
And,  by  the  jingle  and  tramping  in  the  street, 
there  was  at  least  a  troop  assembled  without. 

"  Time,  is  it?  "  said  Halowell,  rising  slowly. 
And  then,  "  Have  I  the  privilege  of  knowing 
where  the — execution  is  to  take  place?  " 

The  captain  had  turned  away  to  issue  an 
order  and  so  did  not  hear  the  question.  The 
surgeon  was  stifling  an  extraordinary  yawn 
and  could  not  answer  it.  And  the  chaplain  did 
not  choose  to  interrupt  the  flow  of  his  elo- 
289 


290  Clayton  Halowell 

quence  on  the  frivolous  pretext  of  replying. 
Clayton  Halowell  began  to  dress,  a  queer  smile 
hovering  on  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  He 
would  like  to  have  sworn  at  the  chaplain,  but 
somehow  the  words  tripped.  He  contented 
himself,  therefore,  with  using  his  powder- 
shaker  vigorously,  and  jerking  his  queue-rib- 
bon as  if  it  were  the  world's  throat. 

"Will  somebody  please  tell  me  where  my 
coat  is,"  he  said  presently. 

The  captain  received  a  bundle  from  one  of 
his  troopers  and  advanced  with  it. 

"  This  was  left  for  you  last  night,  and  as  it 
is  more  appropriate  than  the  other,  I  have  taken 
the  liberty  of  substituting  it." 

The  condemned  man  flushed  angrily  and 
drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height.  "  It  was  a 
liberty,  sir — a  damnable  piece  of  impertinence ! 
Can't  a  man  dress  as  he  pleases  for  his  last  ap- 
pearance in  public  ?  I — " 

Someone  cut  the  cord  of  the  parcel,  and  the 
sight  of  a  handsome  coat  of  black  watered-silk, 
silver-laced  on  the  lapels,  cuffs,  pocket-flaps, 
and  seams,  appeased  Clayton's  wrath.  He 


The  End  is  Attained  291 

took  the  glittering  mass  to  the  window,  and, 
regardless  of  the  chaplain's  exhortation  to  ab- 
jure the  vanities  of  the  world,  examined  it  with 
pleased  surprise,  admiring  its  every  separate 
silver  arabesque  and  glossy  breadth  in  un- 
affected delight. 

"  Mr.  Borden  left  it  for  you,"  continued  the 
captain.  "  He  asked  me  especially  to  see  that 
you—" 

Halowell  did  not  listen  to  the  retailment  of 
Borden's  request.  He  lost  interest  in  his  new 
possession  at  once  and  fingered  it  uncertainly. 
What  did  the  gift  mean? — The  problem 
was  answered  almost  before  it  was  formed 
in  the  discovery  of  a  slit  beneath  the  heavily 
laced  collar.  The  breaking  of  a  few  bastings 
would  lay  the  wearer's  neck  bare — for  a  certain 
band  of  hemp.  The  devilish  implacability  of 
the  gift  revolted  Halowell ;  then,  strong  as  was 
his  repulsion,  he  donned  the  garment.  Un- 
doubtedly Borden  would  be  present  at  the  exe- 
cution, and  his  triumph  should  not  be  absolute. 

At  the  prison  door  an  open  wagon,  guarded 
by  two  files  of  troopers,  was  standing  to  receive 


292  Clayton  Halowell 

the  condemned  man.  Clayton  swung  himself 
lightly  into  the  body  of  the  vehicle  and  found  a 
seat  upon  the  significant  pine  box  which  formed 
its  only  furniture.  The  chaplain  ascended 
more  deliberately;  the  troopers  jingled  into 
close  order;  and  the  cortege  started.  Down 
the  silent  street  and  into  a  back  lane  it  trotted, 
the  sun  slanting  impartially  upon  the  faded  uni- 
forms of  the  guard  and  the  brilliant  coat  of  the 
prisoner.  A  gentle  wind  was  stirring  the  blos- 
som-laden trees  and  rippling  the  blue  thread  of 
river  in  the  valley.  The  perfume  of  moist  earth 
and  flowering  shrubs  scented  the  air.  Birds 
sang;  and  cottage  windows  gleamed  cosily 
through  net-works  of  delicate  green  tracery; 
and  smoke  rose  from  a  hundred  chimneys.  To 
Halowell  the  earth  seemed  an  animated  picture 
which  some  pitying  friend  was  spreading  be- 
fore his  eyes. 

Then  the  wagon  jolted  around  an  abrupt 
twist,  bumped  a  rod  or  two  through  a  throng 
of  silent  men,  and  halted. 

The  sight  of  his  fellow  creatures  had  the 
effect  of  banishing  the  prisoner's  dispassionate 


The  End  is  Attained  293 

calm.  He  glanced  about  keenly.  The  place 
was  an  orchard  that  sloped  to  the  river — a 
square  of  emerald  velvet  below,  a  mass  of  clus- 
tering pink  blossoms  above.  The  gibbet  was 
an  apple  tree  heavy,  like  its  fellows,  with  blos- 
soms and  perfume.  Its  beauty  and  odor  inter- 
ested Halowell — until  a  trooper  climbed  into 
the  gnarled  depths  and  adjusted  a  noosed  rope, 
at  which  sight  the  prisoner  suddenly  lost  in- 
terest and  turned  away. 

Beyond  the  cordon  of  guards  was  the  silent 
throng  through  which  the  wagon  had  lately 
passed.  A  few  civilians  had  defied  the  bland- 
ishments of  Morpheus,  and  braved  the  early 
dampness,  to  witness  the  execution :  but  their 
number  was  scarcely  noticeable  in  that  of  the 
soldiers  (cavalrymen,  ragged  infantrymen, 
linen-frocked  riflemen,  and  blue  and  scarlet  ar- 
tillerymen), which  had  been  bound  in  a  com- 
mon brotherhood  and  drawn  by  a  common 
curiosity  to  see  the  traitor  die. 

A  figure  on  the  outskirts  of  the  orchard 
caught  and  held  Halowell's  attention.  The 
figure  was  more  closely  muffled  than  the  sea- 


294  Clayton  Halowell 

son  required,  and  had  a  peculiar  expression  on 
its  paste- white  face,  an  expression  half  of 
ferocity,  half  of  fright.  Dalton  had  battled 
against  the  impulse  to  attend  the  execution. 
But  the  subtle  attraction  which  draws  criminals 
to  the  scene  of  their  crime  had  proven,  in  this 
case  as  in  others,  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  As 
he  felt  his  victim's  gaze  he  shrank  into  the  shel- 
ter of  a  tree,  his  face  wet  and  distorted  with  the 
startled  defiance  of  a  murderer  surprised  with 
the  blood  on  his  hands,  a  forger  discovered  by  a 
trusted  employer  with  the  ink  yet  wet.  Halo- 
well's  heart  filled  with  a  savage  hatred  and  his 
eyes,  even  though  he  smiled  faintly  at  the 
other's  weak  terror,  were  murderous.  It  was 
not  the  Halowell  whom  Joyce  had  called  into 
being  and  known  and  loved,  that  was  dying ;  it 
was  rather  the  ex-tavern-lounger,  the  reckless 
trooper,  the  dare-devil  officer  of  the  days  pre- 
vious to  the  trip  to  Philadelphia.  The  chrys- 
alis of  tenderness  which  had  enveloped  his 
spirits  during  the  brief  weeks  of  his  happines? 
had  fallen  away  to  allow  the  old  brazen,  swag- 
gering Halowell  to  stare  the  Grim  Reaper  out 


The  End  is  Attained  295 

of  countenance  and  laugh  as  the  scythe  hissed 
toward  him. 

Another  man,  pushing  his  broad,  suave  face 
over  the  crupper  of  a  nearby  horse,  claimed  the 
prisoner's  attention  when  he  had  dismissed  Dai- 
ton  from  his  mind.  There  was  something  in 
the  vindictive  triumph  of  this  second  counte- 
nance which  suggested  Satan  masquerading  in 
ungainly  flesh.  Borden,  far  from  shrinking  at 
his  share  of  the  tragedy,  nodded  and  drew  his 
lips  into  a  grin  of  enjoyment.  At  length  a 
score  was  to  be  evened  and  a  profitable  profes- 
sion made  secure. 

The  guards,  meanwhile,  were  going  about 
their  several  tasks  in  a  grimly  business-like 
way,  fastening  the  prisoner's  arms  to  his  side, 
cutting  the  bastings  of  his  collar,  and  finally 
bandaging  his  eyes.  Before  the  first  indignity 
Clayton  managed  to  draw  a  tiny  packet  from 
his  breast  and  slip  it  into  his  right  hand. 

Though  the  action  was  swift,  the  cavalry 
captain  detected  it,  and,  "  Open  your  right 
hand !  "  came  his  harsh  command. 

A  tremor  (his  first)  shook  the  bound  and 


296  Clayton  Halowell 

blindfolded  prisoner.  He  slowly  uncurled  his 
fingers  and  a  bit  of  tissue-paper  fluttered  to  the 
ground  like  a  broken  petal,  disclosing  a  dried 
carnation.  A  breath,  like  the  stirring  of  the 
air  before  a  storm,  rose  from  the  wondering 
onlookers. 

"  You  may  close  your  hand,"  the  captain 
said :  and  to  counteract  the  momentary  softness 
of  his  voice,  read  the  approved  verdict  of  the 
court,  and  the  warrant  under  which  he  acted, 
in  his  coldest  tones.  When  he  had  finished  the 
stillness  was  so  intense  that  the  rattle  of  the 
river  a  hundred  yards  away  was  loud  to  the  ear. 
Only  the  figure  in  the  cart  high  above  the  as- 
sembled heads  seemed  insensible  to  the  awe  of 
the  moment.  He  had  been  permitted  to  keep 
his  flower,  so  why  the  necessity  of  solemnity. 

"  Ugh !  You  might  at  least  have  used  a  new 
rope,  Captain,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Have  you  any  message  for  your  unhappy 
relatives  ?  "  asked  the  chaplain  rebukingly. 

"  I'm  the  last  of  the  line,  sir,  for  which  mercy 
I  thank  God." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  make  a  statement?  "  asked 


The  End  is  Attained  297 

the  captain.  That  he  thought  the  prisoner 
guilty  was  patent  in  his  manner.  "  This  rev- 
erend gentleman  will  transmit  your  words  to 
the  proper  persons." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  and  the  reverend  gentle- 
man also,  but  I  am  quite  prepared  for  that 
which  I  am  called  upon  to  bear.  Making  state- 
ments is  poor  work  at  best.  Now  sir,  with  your 
permission,  I  am  ready,"  and  the  Major  shook 
himself  like  a  dog  clearing  his  coat  of  water. 

The  Captain's  hand  went  up  to  give  the  sig- 
nal that  would  precipitate  a  spy  into  Eternity. 
But  the  trooper  at  the  head  of  the  cart-horse 
was  not  heeding  his  captain,  his  eyes,  in  com- 
mon with  those  of  the  throng,  being  fixed  on 
two  women  who  had  suddenly  come  into  sight 
galloping  madly  along  the  golden  road.  The 
broad,  suave  civilian  saw  the  women  and  dis- 
appeared, cursing.  The  muffled  figure  behind 
the  tree  saw  them  and  shivered  from  top  to  toe. 
Through  the  orchard  gate,  into  the  midst  of  the 
spectators  the  twain  raced.  The  foremost  was 
Madam,  and  she  spurred  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
cart. 


298  Clayton  Halowell 

"  Take  him  down !  "  she  cried  hoarsely.  As 
the  staring  soldiers  made  no  move,  she  gasped, 
"  Take  him  down,  I  say,  you  hounds !  Hounds? 
curs  rather;  at  least  a  hound  would  know  its 
quarry." 

"  You  speak  in  riddles,  Madam,"  said  the 
Captain.  "  By  what  right  do  you  command 
me  to  disobey  explicit  orders  ?  " 

Joyce  had  reached  the  side  of,  anr1  laid  a  re- 
straining hand  upon,  her  turbulent  companion. 
Her  face  was  aqu'ver  with  the  horror  of  her 
race  with  Death,  but  her  every  nerve  was  under 
control. 

"  Madam  de  Laurent  is  distraught,"  she  said 
to  the  Captain.  At  sound  of  her  voice  the 
prisoner  (who  had  scarcely  changed  his  posi- 
tion since  his  words  announcing  his  readiness 
for  the  execution)  started  as  if  stabbed.  "  We 
pray  that  this — punishment — be  delayed. 
Madam  has  evidence  of  Mr.  Halowell's  inno- 
cence, and — " 

"  Evidence ! "  Olive's  voice  rose  above  the 
sudden  rustle  and  buzz  of  the  watching  throng. 
"  Evidence !  I  have  none  that  is  not  patent  to 


The  End  is  Attained  299 

all  here.  Fools!  Triple  fools  that  you  are!  " 
she  went  on,  the  words  tumbling,  burning,  from 
her  white  lips.  "  Sheep,  cattle,  babies,  to  be 
led  and  be  content  to  follow  when  you  have  but 
to  look  in  your  midst  to  behold  the  culprit  of 
the  crime  for  which  a  gentleman  you  are  not  fit 
to  stand  before  is  near  to  death.  Look ;  look,  I 
say,  there,  there,  THERE  !  " 

Olive's  voice  had  risen  to  a  discordant 
scream,  the  ring  of  which  caused  the  surgeon 
to  move  suddenly  forward  and  frown  up  into 
her  face.  Her  finger,  dread,  trembling  and  ac- 
cusative, was  at  Dalton's  head. 

For  an  instant  Dalton  was  as  water,  weak 
and  wet.  Then  an  invisible  power  galvanized 
him;  his  cheeks  flushed;  his  mouth  hardened 
as  Olive  had  never  before  seen  it  harden :  and 
he  was  beside  his  accuser,  a  man  ready  to  dare, 
no  longer  a  weakling  shrinking  from  the  result 
of  his  handiwork. 

"  So !  "  he  said  quietly,  and  drew  a  pistol 
from  beneath  his  coat.  The  on-lookers,  sur- 
feited with  sensation,  accepted  the  move 
as  if  it  were  part  of  the  ceremony  they  had 


300  Clayton  Halowell 

come  to  witness.  "  So  it  is  finished,  Olive : 
the  main  is  thrown  and  the  stake  lost.  I've 
one  bullet  here,"  and  he  tapped  the  barrel  of 
his  pistol.  "  Which  shall  it  be  for — you  or 
me?  No,  gentlemen,  there  must  be  no  inter- 
ference," as  the  Captain  and  Surgeon  and 
Chaplain  recovered  the  senses  the  unex- 
pected turn  of  events  had  deprived  them  of, 
and  started  forward.  "  This  is  a  personal  af- 
fair, sirs.  If  it  will  relieve  your  minds  I'll  say 
the  bullet  will  be  for  the  first  who  molests  me. 
Olive,  which  of  us  two  shall  have  the  pellet?  " 

Before  Olive  could  reply  Joyce  was  dis- 
mounted and  before  her  brother. 

"  George !  "  she  cried,  in  a  thrilling  whisper. 
"  George!  " 

The  man  stared  silently  at  the  panting  girl. 
Then,  "  I  meant  he  should  die,"  he  said  evenly. 
"  I — I  was  in  his  power  if  he  lived,  and  I  hated 
him  for  what  he  had  been  to — one  I  loved. 
Now  you  know  the  truth,"  and  he  turned  away, 
unheedful  of  the  speechless  agony  his  words 
had  called  into  being.  "  Olive,"  he  continued. 
"  Olive,  I  loved  you  very  dearly.  Honor,  coun- 


The  End  is  Attained  301 

try,  friends,  sister — I  gave  up  all  for  you.  I 
love  you  now,  Olive — even  at  this  moment 
when  I  am  ruined  by  you,  denounced  from 
your  lips.  Well,  there's  a  way  out,"  and  the 
click  of  the  cocking  trigger  startled  the  heavy 
silence. 

At  the  sound  Halowell  broke  the  spell  which 
had  held  him  speechless.  "  Dal  ton,  you're 
mad!  Think  of  your  sister,  if  of  nothing 
dearer.  Captain,  let  the  execution  go  on:  if 
I  have  kept  silent  until  now  it  was  because  I 
feared  to  speak.  But  you  hear  me,  all — I  shot 
Heath's  express :  I  sent  the  information  of 
Stirling's  raid  to  Knyphausen:  I  tried  to  get 
Buckwell's  dispatches.  In  God's  name  let  the 
execution  go  on !  " 

Dalton  allowed  the  torrent  of  self-accusation 
to  flow  unchecked.  At  its  close, 

"  You  lie,  Halowell,"  he  said,  in  the  dispas- 
sionate calm  that  had  deadened  his  voice  since 
Olive's  denunciation.  "  You  lie.  I  did  all 
you  claim,  and  more  of  which  you  know  noth- 
ing. Proof  ?  You'll  find  a  plenty  in  the  secret 
compartment  of  the  middle  drawer  of  my  desk. 


302  Clayton  Halowcll 

To  you,  Chaplain,  I  entrust  this  matter.  Halo- 
well,  see  that  Joyce  forgets.  Olive,  I  loved  you 
well  in  an  unwise  way.  May  God  have  mercy 
on  me ! " 

Before  foot  could  be  stirred,  and  with 
Madam  de  Laurent  staring  apathetically  at  her 
broken  tool,  there  sounded  a  muffled  report.  A 
pulse-beat  of  silence  held  the  world  (for  even 
the  birds  ceased  their  song  at  the  fell  crackle), 
and  then  a  body  struck  the  ground  with  a  dull 
thud  that  was  sickening  to  hear.  In  the  scream 
that  followed  Halowell  was  endowed  with  the 
strength  of  a  maniac,  and  broke  the  bands 
which  pinioned  him,  and  tore  the  bandage  from 
his  eyes. 

In  the  center  of  a  swaying  ring  of  humanity 
he  beheld  a  prostrate  man  and  girl.  Above 
the  twain,  dry-eyed,  mud-splashed  from  spur 
to  feather,  erect  in  her  saddle,  sat  a  woman. 
Behind  were  the  Captain,  and  the  Surgeon,  and 
the  throng.  And  over  all,  men,  and  women, 
and  corpse,  swayed  the  pink-laden  trees  and 
the  gorgeous  sunshine. 

"  Mr.  Edwards,"  the  Captain  said  presently, 


The  End  is  Attained  303 

and  turned  to  the  surgeon,  "  I  bespeak  your 
offices  for  Madam.  Colton,  release  Mr.  Halo- 
well.  To  you,  Major,  I  entrust  Mistress  Dai- 
ton.  When  you  can  leave  her,  report  to  Head- 
quarters. Earle,  Bye,  Gardner,  convey  Cap- 
tain Dalton  to  the  Provost.  Troop,  fall 
in!" 

There  were  many  present  who  would  have 
shaken  the  erstwhile  prisoner's  hand  but  who 
dared  not  make  the  move.  Indeed,  they  drew 
away  and  parted  as,  with  an  unconscious  girl 
in  his  arms  and  his  eyes  stern  as  Death,  the 
man  strode  across  the  waving  grass.  As  he 
passed  into  the  highway  a  gust  of  wind  sent  a 
shower  of  perfumed  petals  upon  him,  powder- 
ing his  shoulders  and  hiding  Joyce's  face  be- 
neath a  delicate  blanket.  The  fragrance  and 
opportuneness  of  the  deluge  stirred  an  un- 
thought-of  well  of  tenderness  within  the  man. 
Shuddering,  he  saw  the  hair-margin  which  had 
brought  him  near  to  losing  his  love.  And  in 
the  same  quiver  he  saw  the  depth  of  the  girl's 
misery.  With  infinite  tenderness  he  stooped 
and  kissed  the  waxen  forehead.  He  must  be 


304  Clayton  Halowell 

more  than  lover  now:    more  than  husband. 
He  must  be  Life. 


Hours  later,  after  the  sun  had  passed  merid- 
ian and  sunk  low  in  the  red  west,  after  a  dis- 
honored corpse  had  been  buried  by  a  squad  of 
grumbling  men  and  watched  over  by  one  silent 
on-looker,  two  men  stood  beside  a  bed  in  the 
cottage  in  the  lane  that  had  led  Halowell  so 
often  to  Paradise. 

"  She  is  sleeping,"  said  the  older  man,  a 
surgeon  by  the  green  on  his  uniform.  "  It  was 
nip  and  tuck  for  her  reason  up  to  an  hour  ago. 
I  can't  do  anything  more  now.  I'll  come  again 
about  eight." 

"  She'll  live?  "  asked  Halowell  simply. 

The  surgeon  nodded.  "  To  be  a  hundred, 
with  proper  care.  Good-day." 

If,  a  moment  after  his  exit,  he  had  returned 
to  the  sick-chamber,  he  would  have  witnessed  a 
strong  man's  relief  from  terrifying  agony. 

FINIS. 


A     000034426     7 


